


A Photograph From Life

by stevieraebarnes



Category: Arkham Horror (Board Game), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: A tiny love triangle, Arkham Asylum, Background Batfamily, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Depictions of State Institutions, Eldritch, Friends to Lovers, Goblin Market, Light Angst, Lovecraftian, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Portals, Smut, Smut is brief though, Sorry?, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-02-28 23:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevieraebarnes/pseuds/stevieraebarnes
Summary: In which Jason finds himself in the Lovecraftian town of Arkham, Massachusetts; a place of unknown horror that threatens Gotham as well. And Dick takes it upon himself to bring Jason back.





	1. The Travelers

**Author's Note:**

> Now, not only am I cherry picking from the three DC timelines, but I'm cherry picking Lovecraft too.
> 
> My first time writing Cthulhu mythos. And they're hard :( But the Batman universe and Lovecraft Country are such a wonderful pairing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick: I know, Bruce. I understand.
> 
> Narrator Ron Howard: He really didn’t.

Jason realized immediately that this was not Arkham Asylum as he knew it.

The bone structure of the building was the same: the hallways and archways where paths ran into each other followed his mental picture of the gothic hospital. And he could picture it well.

He had been there enough times with Batman as Robin, with the GCPD as Red Hood, with Dick as a broken, rage-fueled Jason Todd. For not the first time, Jason wondered why Bruce had asked him to investigate this place -- of all the people Bats had at his disposal -- and then pushed the thought away.

A week ago, Bruce had found him on a Gotham rooftop and mentioned he needed intel. Five people total had gone missing from Arkham: three staff, two patients. Jurisdiction had slowed down the investigation, which really meant the state hospital was starting to realize they had a crisis on their hands and didn’t want the authorities to broadcast their incompetency. Funding was at stake. So, Arkham was content to let the Gotham Police, Bureau of Health and Safety, and the Bureau of Prisons lay down some ground rules while the World’s Greatest Detective saw an opportunity to infiltrate.

Of course, Batman had then punted the case on to Red Hood.

And really, Jason saw the logic in it. With a case like this, the Caped Crusader just showed your hand too early. A civilian would be able to ferret out details that a cape would have to fight for. Bruce couldn't do it himself; he was too well known, and his playboy narcissism wasn’t enough for an evaluation. Whereas Jason was ready made for this kind of work. He just hoped it was Bruce’s trust in his skills that led to him handing over this case, and not because he still thought Jason was crazy.

Now, Jason turned in the hallway where he stood, taking in more details. The wall paper and wall sconces. The overhead lighting. The smell. The sounds. It was all so different than the room he had climbed out of.

It was his third and final day. The staff had been getting the paperwork to discharge him officially from Arkham Asylum with a transfer to Gotham Memorial where he would undergo either an MRI or CT Scan. Hospital’s choice. Arkham had observed Jason and evaluated him, but the staff had declared him mentally fit except for his unyielding case of amnesia. And Arkham didn’t treat that. Not at first, anyways. Jason would need to see someone in neurology.

Amnesia was a story Jason felt comfortable with. It meant not giving an identity and not being committed beyond his own consent. But by day three, Jason still had no lead on the missing persons and the staff was done with him. They only gave 72 hours to self-harm, why would they give an otherwise perfectly healthy person any longer?

He had just been informed that the attending would be by to sign off on his discharge and referral papers when he heard it. The team member had left his room in an expeditious manner, and he didn’t hear a hiccup in her step at the sound. She marched on, the soles of her trainers making a slight sticking noise at whatever disinfectant remained on the hospital floor. But it didn’t mask the low, wet growl that emanated from outside his room. Jason stood from the bed that he had made his own and sought the doorway, his hands reaching to grasp the top of the doorjamb. He held on and let his body sway forward, his feet grounded on the floor and his arms extended above, as his eyes swept the hallway and he leaned just over the threshold like an offering. There was nothing to take the bait, however. He watched the woman who had informed him of his upcoming dismissal turn a corner and then leave him in an empty, gleaming white corridor.

He continued to stand there, halfway in and halfway out of his room, fingers fiddling with the plastic trim above his head, when he heard it again. It was farther away and muffled. Jason twisted a bit to look behind him to where his backpack with the clothes he had entered with sat on the bed. His decision was made in a breath. On his exhale, he let go of the doorway as he launched himself completely out of the room.

-

He still hadn’t found the source of the growl, but he knew he was getting closer. Jason had managed to slip away from the patient area in his attempt to locate the noise. He moved quickly as security was bound to notice his movements.

He pushed through a door. Down a stairwell. He quietly and efficiently moved into an older and disused part of the asylum and followed the growl to another door. He opened the door and paused, staring at what was before him. The architecture of the room had led Jason to believe that he would face some kind of closet. Instead, he found a large mouth of an opening, inky black except for the edging, which bled a faintly glowing hue of blue and purple. Jason suddenly realized that he could hear nothing, that his surroundings were quiet, when the darkness pulled him through.

-

He came out the other side to find himself still in the asylum. The black opening behind him, still bleeding its dark nothing and pulsing. Jason reached for it, felt something akin to elemental mercury bead against his fingertips, and withdrew his arm. He had remained where he stood.

After that, Jason tried to backpedal to the heart of Arkham and had quickly realized the differences between the asylum he had stayed in and the one he was currently walking through. While the décor had been the first detail to catch his eye, what really set him on edge was what the place lacked. There were no switch activators on the walls. No emergency phones placed equidistant along the corridors. No cameras and mirrors fitted to the ceiling. Jason continued walking.

He pushed past a set of double doors and found himself in the main hub of the hospital. Two men in lab coats walked away down a perpendicular hallway and two women in uniform sat behind a desk in front of him. They watched him walk through the doors and he saw their eyes widen in his unfamiliar appearance.

One woman stood up and made her way around the desk.

“Can I help you, sir?”

She wore a starched dress and smock with a hat perched in her swept-up hair. She eyed his own dark blue jeans, gray Henley, and olive green military-style jacket. Jason felt that maybe his brown leather boots might be acceptable, though.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jason inwardly shrugged at the epithet and rolled with it. “I was looking for a patient and unfortunately got lost. I was told there was a John Doe admitted recently?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips.

“Who told you we had a John Doe?” she asked.

“My superior.”

“But you’re not from here. Why would someone tell you to come here?”

“Come here?” Jason played stupid. Plus, he seemed to be missing a lot of information. “To Arkham Asylum?” he asked.

She laughed at him. “What facts do you have, mister? The name is Arkham Sanitarium accordingly. Not an unusual mistake I suppose. But I meant here as in Arkham, Massachusetts. That is not a New England accent you have.”

“Right. No, I’m from New Jersey. We believe the John Doe you might have is missing from New Jersey, too.”

“Well, I believe that. You certainly sound like you’re from New Jersey. You sound pretty gruff to me.” Jason ignored the insult, the labeling of him as an outsider. The woman continued. “And you’re right. We did get a John Doe. But not one. Five. And they all suddenly appeared through that door just like you did.”

Shit.

“They just appeared in your facility? No admittance record or anything?”

She narrowed her eyes some more. “No. They just appeared.”

“I’d like to see one of the patients, if they’re deemed fit for a visit,” Jason said. He laid on thick the professional angle, hoping she would view him as a peer.

Her smile faltered, and her eyes darted to the doors he had entered from. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t provide you with that information.”

“You can call me Todd.”

“Again, Mr. Todd. I can’t tell you that. Especially when you have entered my ward in a very suspicious manner.”

Jason overdid a sigh and slumped his shoulders for effect. Time to pitch a story.

“Okay. I want to apologize. I don’t have a superior. I’m a PI from Jersey. We really do have missing people, but I wanted to be the one to find them. I broke in here and then couldn’t find any patients.”

The woman pursed her lips again as if she was deciding whether or not his words held the bitterness of poison she was going to swallow.

“None of them were dressed like you,” she admitted. “And they didn’t have their wits about.” She took a deep breath. “If you leave immediately, I won’t call the police to escort you.”

“And if I need to come back to investigate?”

“Come back with the appropriate credentials, Mr. Todd. I’m leaving a record of this with my staff.”

“I understand.” Jason held out his hand to her. “Thank you, uh…”

She reached her hand for his and gave a shake. “Nurse Waite.

“Thank you, Nurse Waite,” he said with a smile.

Her own mouth curved upward a bit before she stood back and motioned with her hand a direction for Jason.

“Come back with an appointment, Mr. Todd. Until then, this way to the egress.”

Jason gave her a nod, and then moved to the exit. Outside for the first time in days, Jason marveled at the brightness of the sun and autumn colored leaves in the trees, on the ground. And then he stood outside and took in a city that was not Gotham.

:::

Dick Grayson scanned the streets below him before moving along in his patrol.

He had arrived back in Gotham four hours earlier after a long visit with Damian and the Teen Titans in San Francisco. He had spent ten days with the teens (and pre-teens) without wanting to murder any of them. It was a miracle.

The kids were fun; they all had interesting personalities and Dick had enjoyed playing the mentor. He was careful around Damian. He wanted to give his support without making the kid feel like he was taking over. Dick didn’t want to ruin the trust they had between them.

But the kids also had looked at Dick with helplessly blank faces at his quips and their interests were not Dick’s interests. Damian understood how Dick operated, but he didn’t participate with Dick in his games. He had felt more like a babysitter than a team player for their mission and Dick had flown back to Gotham missing the banter with the other bats. Tim would sometimes prove too analytic at a turn of phrase, and was often too busy with Spoiler and Orphan besides. Babs was always good for a laugh, but there was too much baggage for them to engage in any conversation without stepping on a proverbial mine. He envied the delight she showed when engaged with her own trainees.

But Jason…

Jason gave as good as he took, provided it wasn’t Bruce or Damian he was engaged with which tended to suck the fun out of things. But with Jason, Dick could make puns, make up words, and Jason would roll with it. Jason would call him out for his more ridiculous statements, but he always kept the door open for more. And Dick would make fun of Jason’s music references, mostly because Dick seemed to be the only other one who got them.

Dick continued to patrol downtown Gotham, wishing he had some company, wishing that it was Jason specifically, so they could fly and laugh and talk about things he couldn’t talk about with the others. He hadn’t seen Jay in a few weeks and Dick realized he really wanted to tell him about the Teen Titans; about how fun they were, but mostly what little shits they were, too.

He took one last look at the city as Nightwing before deciding to call it a night. It was still early in the night, barely 22:00, but he wasn’t up for this right now. The other bats, wherever they were, could handle another night without him. He started moving in the direction of his apartment when his comm pinged.

“Go ahead.”

“Meet me at the Cave ASAP.” Batman.

Dick knew with a statement like that, he wouldn’t give off any more details.

“Be there in fifteen,” he said and got to it.

  
-

Dick found Bruce and Alfred in the Cave, eyes roaming over the screens in front of them.

“Welcome, Master Dick,” Alfred greeted when he spotted him making his way over.

“Hi Alfred,” he called. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re not sure, young sir. But it concerns Master Jason.”

“What? What’s going on with Jay?”

“We don’t know,” Bruce said. “He’s missing.”

“Bruce, what? What do you mean he’s missing?”

“He’s been at Arkham for the last three days to investigate a missing persons case. Now Arkham has reported him missing too.” Bruce pulled up a police log and the hospital’s hacked security feed. Dick stared at the information for a second and then rounded on Bruce again.

“Wait. You gotta start at the beginning. You sent Jason. _Jason_. Into Arkham?!?”

“Yes. Undercover. For intel.”

“You sent him in as a civilian? Without any sort of armor against that place? With no Red Hood to hide behind?”

“Look, Dick, I understand what you’re saying…”

“That’s cruel, Bruce.”

“And what was I supposed to do, Dick? You were gone. Tim’s barely here. Jason is the only dependable one when it comes to the streets of Gotham, but he won’t come near the manor unless he’s unconscious and dragged…” He took a breath and changed tactics.

“I had a case. He was here. He’s capable and skilled. If I didn’t offer it to him purely out of sensitivity to his past mental state, he’d find out, get mad, and never talk to me again. If I offered the case but told him to be careful because I do understand how this looks, he’d still get mad and would never talk to me again. If he wants my trust Dick, then I have to trust him. He doesn’t want coddling.”

Dick remained still, absorbing Bruce’s words.

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. Bruce just stood there. “I’m sorry,” Dick said.

“You’re worried about him,” Bruce said instead.

“Of course I am! He’s missing!”

“No. You’re not worried about that. You’re worried about him feeling used by me. You’re worried that he feels alone.”

Dick crossed his arms in front of him and took a slightly defensive stance. Bruce seemed to register the movements.

“I’m worried, too, Dick. I’m still a parent to him. But he’s a grown man. I have to let him be able to say no to a case…even if I know he won’t.”

“It didn’t have to be Arkham,” Dick said quietly. “You could have waited.”

“I couldn’t wait. And it was Arkham.” Bruce shifted back to the monitors. “Take a look at the security feed. It’s from six hours ago.”

Dick watched the security footage and quickly gathered the facts surrounding the situation. The asylum had started Jason’s discharge process at around 15:00. Bruce, Alfred, and Dick watched as Jason strolled the corridor where his room was located an hour after discharge started. They picked up his movements on different cameras, then watched as he approached a door that looked less used and then the cameras displayed interference.

“That’s how it is with every staff and patient who has disappeared. They’re on security until they go through a door and they’re not picked up on the other side. The cameras cut out, then loop, then malfunction again, and then they’re back in order. I’ve examined the pathways the missing took. They’re all different doors throughout the hospital, but they seem to be heading towards the older part of the building.”

“And then they’re gone?”

“Yes.”

“Any other connections? Times they went missing?”

“All different times.”

“Is someone keeping them hidden?”

“That’s why I sent Jason.”

“Magic, maybe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus. This is bad.”

“Dick.”

“I hate magic! Clark’s useless against it!”

“Dick,” Bruce said again, “calm down.”

Dick realized he was pacing, his crossed arms tightening against himself. He stood his ground and took a deep breath, forcing air into every bit of him, and then forcing it back out.

“We have to find him,” Dick said.

Bruce looked at Dick, his eyes examining Dick’s response, his pleading and open face. Bruce’s brow furrowed in concern then he smoothed his features out.

“We will. I called Tim while you were on your way over. He can spare himself for Jason. I’ll contact whomever we need to in order to find him. But Dick…” Bruce moved directly in front of him and placed his hands on Dick’s shoulders. “We need to use caution. I’m not losing any one else.”

Dick looked Bruce in the eyes, saw the hardened gray color willing him to accept.

“I know, Bruce. I understand.”

He really didn’t.

:::

Jason crossed the street and walked the block.

The streets were gravel and there were more pedestrians than motorcars. Jason thought about what his surroundings were telling him, but most of his information of past decades came from the books he read. His mind supplied a vague determination of 1920s, but he had no idea for sure of when he was. He had already accepted that he probably was in Arkham, MA just as Nurse Waite had said, nevermind that there was no Arkham in the state of Massachusetts. Jason tended to just go with whatever after stepping through an unknown portal.

He continued walking until he realized he was skirting along a sprawling stone building. He found a large, looming entrance that opened to a grassy quad. Large letters in green oxidized copper announced Jason’s location: Miskatonic University. Jason walked up the gray steps and through the open gateway. There was a path in front of him leading to the center of the quad. The outskirts were lined with trees and benches. A number of students walked by, off to classes, chatting with friends. Jason continued to walk the quad, observing as he went. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he figured a university was as good as any to start. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to appear aimless. A young man sat on an otherwise unoccupied bench, a pad of paper and pencil in his hands. He flicked a gaze over at Jason every few seconds as Jason walked on until the path led him in front of the man. Just as Jason was going to continue walking along, the man held up the hand with the pencil and waved at him.

Jason approached him, not knowing what else to do, and stood in front of where he was seated. The man looked maybe a couple years younger than Jason. He wore a long sleeved linen shirt, but with the sleeves rolled up to just above the elbows and the buttons opened at the throat. He wore suspenders, but no jacket, and he smiled at Jason with a clean-shaven face. He patted the open seat next to him with long, practiced fingers and Jason sat down.

“I’ve been sketching you since the moment you appeared, but I need to see you up close for a bit.”

“Uh…” was all Jason could manage.

He examined Jason's face. “Your skin has tanned a bit from the summer, but I can see it will soon pale. You have a sprinkling of freckles across your nose.”

“Normally people just ask for my phone number,” Jason said.

“I’m an art student here at Miskatonic,” the man offered. “I’m Richard Upton Pickman.”

“Of course you are.”

“Everyone calls me Pickman.”

“Thank God. I already have a Richard in my life.”

Pickman narrowed his eyes at that. “But what I really wanted to examine is this glorious stripe of hair you have. How did you get it?”

The young man leaned forward at the waist to look closer at the white locks at Jason’s forehead.

“That’s a bit personal,” Jason said, but wondering why and how the hair dye he'd used to guard the distinct white fringe had disappeared.

“Is it? I apologize. Let’s make our way there then. What’s your name?”

“Jason. Jason Todd.” Might as well. He had stepped into a fictional town of the 1920s as well as he could figure.

“Jason? I like it. I don’t know any Jasons. Are you as adventurous as the Argonaut?”

“Depends on the situation.”

Pickman laughed at that. “Yes, I suppose it would. Are you a student here?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

Pickman waited.

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Hmm,” Pickman said.

“What?” Jason asked him.

“You seem older than that. But younger, too. You are very interesting, Jason Todd. And that hair. How does the white part sweep up and back like that?”

“Just lucky I guess.”

Pickman laughed again.

“So you’re a student here," Jason interrupted. "Art. Are you originally from Arkham?”

Pickman sighed. "Yes. Born and bred. Mother and father didn't want me boarding too far away, but the devil I'll live at home. I have some family in that backwards town of Dunwich, but I refuse to visit.”

“So I take it Dunwich is not a pleasant vacation spot? Shame.”

“Are you serious? Obviously you’ve never heard of the town.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Pickman laughed at that. “After school, I plan to move to Boston. I’ll let a studio and paint every day.”

“Where in Boston?” Jason asked. He was genuinely curious. He’d been there a few times with Bruce.

“I’m not sure. But I think I’d like Hanover Street.”

This time, Jason laughed. “Yeah, Hanover Street. I think I’d like that too. I hope you enjoy Italian food.”

"I do indeed. I think Boston is the perfect place for me." He placed a hand on Jason and Pickman suddenly looked at what he was touching. “Curious. Your physiology is quite impressive, Jason. Expansive.”

“You’re being creepy. Take your hand off of me.”

“I apologize. Again. It’s just…I’ve never seen anyone like you. Your dress, your bizarre hair, your voice. Even the way you speak is strange!”

“The way I speak is not strange. I understand you just fine.”

“Why are you here, Jason? Will you tell me?”

Jason hesitated, then decided to confide.

“I’m investigating the town.”

“Like the tunnels?” Pickman asked.

“What tunnels?”

“They’re all over the city. Underground. But only one entrance as far as I've found. I hear things coming from them sometimes.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m hoping to draw whatever it is that makes the sound.”

“Is it a growling sound? A low growling sound?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes, it’s voices.”

“What do the voices say?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. It’s not English.”

Jason looked at Pickman, thinking. Pickman took the opportunity to look right back and Jason watched the way his eyes searched his face, committing as much as the student could to memory.

“Right. Is there a linguistics department here?”

“Of course. Dr. Armitage is the best at what he does and he chairs the department.”

“Can you take me to him?”

Pickman gathered his supplies and shoved them into a satchel at his feet. Then he stood up next to Jason.

“I will introduce you,” he said.

-

Jason and Pickman stood in front of the open door to the office of the linguistics professor.

Pickman knocked on the door and stepped through.

“Dr. Armitage? I’ve brought an investigator who wishes to speak with you.”

“Carter?” A man spoke. His eyes looked up from the piled reading material at the desk he sat at and saw that it was not a man named Carter who stood before him, but Jason.

“No, sir. This is Jason Todd,” Pickman introduced.

The man at the desk stood up. “My name is Henry Armitage. I’m a professor here at Miskatonic. You need my help for an investigation?”

“I’m wondering how much you know about what’s lurking beneath Arkham.”

It was nothing but a gamble; accepting his observations as truth and flinging them at the man before him.

Dr. Armitage’s eyes went wide. “Did Carter send you?”

“No.”

“Mr. Pickman, if you would please shut the door.” Armitage sat back down at his desk. “Why are you here, Mr. Todd?”

“By accident, actually. There’s a connecting portal…or tunnel from my town to this town.”

“That’s certainly peculiar,” Armitage said carefully.

“Yes. It is. My city has now lost six people to this portal including me. Everyone back home thinks they’re gone.”

“Where is home for you, Mr. Todd?”

“Gotham.”

“Gotham?” Pickman repeated.

“Where is Gotham?” Armitage asked.

“It’s in New Jersey.”

“A small town, I take it?”

“No. Huge population. Skyscrapers. Museums. Opera houses. The whole works.”

“I’ve never heard of Gotham before, Mr. Todd. How can that be?”

“Probably the same way I’ve never heard of Arkham, Dr. Armitage.” Except for, of course, in short stories. But Jason didn’t feel like he should mention that.

“Hmm. You seem to be another bizarre problem rooted in whatever has taken hold of Arkham.”

“Do you have a plan to deal with this problem?” Jason asked.

“I am translating whatever I can with the use of the Necronomicon.”

Jason scoffed. “Of course you are.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, sure. Let me guess. John Dee translation? Or Nicholas Flammel?” Jason joked.

Dr. Armitage looked at Jason with an annoyed look. “John Dee’s abysmal publication is a literary joke and Flammel never published such a thing. One could hardly persuade him to write out his life-lengthening diet! No, I mean the Abdul Alhazred version that was translated to Latin by Olaus Wormius.”

“Oh,” Jason replied.

“If you are going to waste my time…” Armitage started.

“I’m not. Really. I’ve seen things. I’ve faced situations far crazier than this and won.”

“Won? What madness do you speak of that you can win against? There is no winning against it. Only staving off. That is what we do here. That is what Carter joins me to do. What is here, is here. There is no defeating it. We’ve seen it in Innsmouth. In Providence. There is only the use of knowledge that perhaps will allow us to survive another day. But whatever happens, it is ultimately out of our control.”

“Whose control is it in then?”

“Only happenstance. The only thing in control is cause and effect.”

“So…you’re saying it’s not magic?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Todd. Prayers and spells cannot fight what simply is. We live on a placid island of ignorance, Jason. And it was not meant that we should voyage far.”*

Jason stared at Dr. Armitage for a few seconds. Then, “Well. What causes do you and this Carter hope to put into effect?”

Armitage looked impressed. “You’re still with us, then? Most people who hear that particular truth, especially after having a glimpse of what is, descend into madness.”

“I’m not most people,” Jason said. “And I’ve been mad before. I got over it.”

Armitage smiled at him, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “We just might put you to use after all.”

-

Afterwards, when Armitage had assured Jason that there was nothing for them to do except wait for the arrival of Carter, who had experience in such matters, Pickman offered to take Jason back to the dorms.

“And what of the translations?” Jason had asked Armitage before leaving the office. “What help will they be?”

“We may be able to find a key phrase to put your so-called portal into slumber.”

“You mean you’ll speak a specific phrase to the portal?”

“Yes. If that’s what my translations instruct.”

“Sounds like magic,” Jason remarked.

“I assure you it is not. We are merely hoping to use the same bizarre laws that govern these creatures. They are part of our cosmic fabric. They give and take to the color of space. They do not appear from nothing. And they do not disappear for nothing, as much as we wish them to. We can strike out at the smaller ones. We can persuade some back to slumber. And we can live until we don’t.”

“I know of certain people back in Gotham who would love to have you work with them,” was all Jason could reply, thinking of the Batman's work ethic.

Dismissed, Pickman led Jason out of the linguistics department and back to the quad. They crossed to the other side and to another building that was part of the university.

“Come on, Jason. Just a bit further. My dormitory is on the third floor.”

“Thanks, Pickman, but you really don’t need to do this. I can figure something out. In fact, I might actually prefer…”

“Nonsense, friend. I am offering you a place to stay. You are a man lost in time and space. I feel honor bound to take care of you.”

Jason wanted to snark at that, but he wasn’t going to bite the hand that feeds him. Or housed him, rather. Hopefully there would be food involved too.

Pickman unlocked his door and waved Jason in. It was dark until the man stepped inside and flicked a switch on the wall. An overhead lamp hummed into existence.

“Let me get some candles on, and a fire going, and then we’ll be set.”

Jason watched Pickman move to a credenza against a wall in the two-room dorm. One room was a bathroom. The other room was for everything else.

A number of taper candles flickered with life and Pickman made his way to the fireplace set in the wall opposite the entryway and situated between two large windows overlooking town. The farthest wall housed a single bed and dresser. Pickman threw some of the stacked wood onto the grate and shoved some kindling in the space underneath. He struck a match and lit the kindling in a few different places before the fire caught. He walked back towards Jason and stood in the center of the room.

“Please use the toilet to freshen up if you’d like,” Pickman said. “And then you may sleep in my bed. You look awfully tired. I’m going to pop out for a meal to bring back. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yeah, that sounds great, Pickman. I’m hungry.” Pickman flashed him a smile and dashed out the door.

Jason made use of the bathroom and eyed the bed warily. He then decided on the chair by the fireplace. He took off his jacket and sank into the velvet wingback. Jason started dozing by the time Pickman strode through the door with a large plate and his satchel. He saw Jason in the chair and clicked his tongue at him disapprovingly.

“You’re tired, Jason. Take the bed.”

“It’s warm here, Pickman. And I want to eat.” _And I don't want your bed._

Pickman handed him a plate of what looked like a roast dinner.

“Thanks. For everything. This looks really good.”

“Of course. We’re friends.”

Jason ignored that. He ate his dinner in relative silence with Pickman asking him only the occasional questions about Gotham. Pickman took Jason’s plate away when it was cleared and sat back down at his desk. He pulled his supplies from his satchel, plus more from his desk drawers. Jason’s eyes drooped closed as the warmth of the fire and the comfort of a full belly eased him into sleepiness. His jacket was draped over him like a blanket and Jason blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

Jason slowly looked up upon hearing his name called softly. It was Pickman. He had his pencils and brushes out.

“Goodnight, Jason,” he said.

“Goodnight, Pickman,” Jason replied, closing his eyes to the sound of the young art student swirling his paints.

:::

Dick left the Cave for home, just like he told Bruce. And just like he told Bruce, he wanted to get out of his Nightwing costume to shower and clear his head.

He entered through his secret entrance from the back alley side of his apartment building. Once inside and security protocols re-engaged, Dick made for the bathroom. Bruce didn’t have cameras inside the apartment, but Dick knew that he’d be watching whatever feeds be could get his hands on to see if Dick was going to do something rash. Dick felt incredibly rash at the moment.

He started the shower and stripped out of the suit. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water hit the tension he’d been holding in his back. He rolled his shoulders and circled his hips, trying to loosen himself up while he mentally prepared himself to disobey Bruce’s direct orders.

Dick toweled himself dry once he’d finished and moved into his bedroom to pick out clothes. Jason went in as a civilian, so Dick decided to also enter as a civvie. Well, break in actually. He planned to sneak into the back, older part of the hospital since that’s the only real info they had.

Dick tugged on some boxers and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a belt. He reached into another drawer and grabbed the first thing his hand came into contact with. A sunset orange t-shirt that he pulled over his self. Dick found his socks and athletic shoes. He grabbed a coat on his way to the door: a warm, navy blue pea coat.

Dick left the apartment in the dark shadows of Gotham streets and avoided CCTV when he could. He knew he had no time. He knew that Bruce would be watching, waiting for Dick to make his move. Dick only hoped he could reach Arkham before the Bat caught him.

-

Dick caught his breath and took in his surroundings.

He was dressed as a civilian, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to load the pockets of his coat with helpful Nightwing tech. He was fine as long as he wasn’t caught. Then he’d have to destroy whatever was on his person. And he didn’t feel like asking Bruce for any loaners.

Dick had bypassed security and avoided detection, making it to the part of the asylum he wanted. Cut bars and a broken window later, Dick found himself in a disused part of Arkham. Part of him wanted to break into the main part of the asylum and retrieve Jason's backpack of stuff. But he knew that it was in this area of the building that held his only lead on where Jason and the others disappeared.

He quietly started walking; not wanting to tip anyone off who might be in hearing range, but wanting to move out from his landing before Batman got there. He walked on, the area quiet and no sign of movement. He found nothing but dark and silent rooms and corridors. He made a mental map as he went, trying to keep his bearings straight and to prevent him from getting lost. Maybe Jason was just lost.

Dick smiled to himself as he continued to move forward, to explore the darkness. He could just picture turning a corner and finding Jason there, grouchy with hunger and at it taking Dick so long to find him. He’d be mad but Dick would ignore that and hug him anyway. He did turn a corner, but there was no Jason. Instead, Dick heard voices.

He silently traveled towards the voices, trying to understand what they were saying. He couldn’t pin point the language. He couldn’t even distinguish whether the voices were male of female. Young or old. He moved down a set of stairs. Through a hallway. Into a room and approached a door. The voices were louder now, and he expected people to be sitting in some kind of closet.

Dick opened the door and saw nothing. There were no people. No voices. Nothing, but a large, throbbing blackness. And Dick was pulled through.

-

Dick looked at his surroundings.

The inky blackness was still there, but when Dick reached out with his hand he remained where he stood. Instead, he tried to backtrack. To another room, up a staircase. He made his way back to where he remembered the main facilities to be. It was easy this time. No cameras. No modern day security systems. Dick let his imagination wander as he slipped along the corridors.

He found the reception area devoid of personnel. Dick walked behind the desk and started rifling through the papers he found. There were notes on violent attacks: on strange patients appearing on the premises, and then the deaths of three of them.

_Deaths??_

But then Dick saw a memo pad open to the side of the folders and their contents. Dick bent down to examine what was written in a looped, slanted hand. _If Mr. Todd returns, make sure he has proper identification_.

Dick smiled as he read and then felt anxious. He knew it was dumb. Jason had been on his own for a long time. He knew Jason could handle himself. That he had for years. Was Dick only here to also be lost? And when the two of them did get back to Gotham, would it just be to go their separate ways again? Dick tried to remember why he had impulsively gone to Arkham. Jason and him had been spending more time together lately, just the two of them. But specifically, Jason had been seeking Dick’s company. How could Dick not be the one to find him?

He heard footsteps turn a corner down the hallway and the smell of coffee wafted around him. Dick moved away from the reception area, found the exit, and left. He launched himself over the side of the steps to the ground and quickly walked away from the looming building. Once he had enough distance, he stopped in his tracks and took a good look at where he was.

It was dark, probably around one in the morning. And it wasn’t Gotham. It wasn’t even the 21st century. The only thing here for him was Jason, and Dick had no idea where he was. He stood on the sidewalk and listened. He heard the whip of the wind and the emptiness of the streets. He walked some more, until he found a building with a rooftop fire escape on the alley side. Dick had the fleeting thought that the building might be a library, but it didn’t matter. Dick was seeking comfort. He leapt to the first landing of the escape and climbed. He climbed until he stepped over the rooftop ledge and felt a sense of familiarity. He watched the city streets from up high, his favorite perch. But when he saw nothing to concern himself with, he folded.

Dick sat down with his back against the ledge to escape the occasional drafts that tall buildings always invite. He made sure his coat was buttoned and he turned up his collar to keep his neck warm. He placed his hands in his pockets and tried to duck his head between his pulled up knees and coat for warmth. He thought of Jason, of how he was here somewhere, and Dick tried very hard to keep himself together as he closed his eyes to the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: * text from H.P. Lovecraft's "The Call of Cthulhu"


	2. The Acrobat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Dick reunite. Pickman is painfully aware that he's a third wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter includes fairly explicit sexual content (at end of chapter) and descriptions of a dead body (midway).
> 
> Also, I wrote some of this on my tablet so watch out for random Ducks...but I think I found them all lol.

Jason awoke to a sore body and a crick in the neck.

Light poured in from the naked windows and Jason noticed a blanket thrown over him in addition to his jacket. He looked over to Pickman’s bed, noticed it empty and unslept in. He heard noises coming from the bathroom, the running of water, a sigh.

Pickman opened the door and alighted on Jason.

“Good morning!” He had changed his shirt, but it was in the same style as yesterday, and his suspenders swung low on his hips and thighs.

Jason grunted in return.

“Well, perhaps not a good morning for you. I did offer you the bed.”

“It’s fine,” Jason said. He stood up, placing the blanket and jacket on the chair instead. “I just need to loosen up.” Jason reached up as far as he could, lengthening his spine, his body. He felt his muscles begin to unknot themselves.

“I know the thing for you,” Pickman said while watching Jason’s Henley ride up his torso. “I say we walk to breakfast, and then I’ll show you the tunnels I’ve found.”

Jason shook his arms out and pulled down his shirt.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good, Pickman. I’ll just sort of wash up first, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! There are fresh linens in the cupboard. And soap. You are welcome to use my pomade, but your hair already seems in order. How does it do that?”

“It’s just the way the hair’s cut. It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s preternatural.”

Jason laughed.

“What do you find funny?”

“Nobody says ‘preternatural’ where I come from.”

“Well then, what would you say?”

“We just say ‘supernatural.’”

Pickman grimaced. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to,” Jason said and he shut the door of the bathroom behind him.

-

Jason followed Pickman out of the dorm building and out of Miskatonic University. They walked the street together, pointing out shops.

“That’s the Curiosity Shoppe,” Pickman announced. “The curator knows a bit of what’s happening to Arkham. Well, everyone knows _something_ , but most people believe it’s simply an uptick in crime. But there are some of us who are a little more in the know. Dr. Armitage has been consulting with the Curiosity Shoppe for more bizarre texts.”

They turned a street corner and found themselves in the heart of downtown. The streets were filled as men and women moved from destination to destination. The two men continued walking until Pickman pushed Jason through the open door of Velma’s Diner.

The smell of food made Jason’s stomach growl. Pickman waved his hand in the air and a woman emerged to show them a table. They sat down to some pleasantries exchanged with the woman who then left them to themselves.

“So, how much longer are you a student for?”

“I’m finished at the end of the semester.”

“Wow. So, soon then. Better start looking for a place to live in Boston.”

“I’ve posted some inquiries. I’m waiting for a few responses.”

Jason nodded at that.

“Did you attend university?” Pickman asked him.

“No. I had a very unorthodox upbringing.”

“I’m not surprised. Do you have any specialties?”

“A few.”

“Will you tell me?”

“No.”

“I’ll just have to let my imagination fill in the blanks, then.”

“You do that.”

The woman returned with coffees for them both. “Toast for you, Mr. Pickman?”

“Yes, please. And something heartier for my friend,” he said before she retreated.

“Thanks,” Jason told the man. He was saying it a lot lately.

“I’m happy to be of use to you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So. This unorthodox rearing. Your parents?”

“To some extent. But mostly due to a mentor.”

“Ah. I see. A benefactor.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I’m not sure of your connotation,” Jason replied.

“You’re a very careful man.”

Jason said nothing to that.

“And your hometown. Gotham. Will you return if you can?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Why? Do you have people waiting for you?”

“No. Well, sort of.” Jason sipped his own coffee. “I have a couple of people I care about. And there are people who depend on me.”

“Dependents? Already?”

“Not like that. But there are kids I like to keep an eye on. Make sure they don’t fall into a life of crime. Get a square meal now and then. Stuff like that.”

“You’re like a Robin Hood.”

Jason laughed. "Yeah, but without the green."

When their food came, the two men lapsed into silence. Pickman seemed in thought as he drank his coffee and crunched at his toast. Jason’s meal thankfully included a hefty serving of protein with his toast and a cup of oatmeal. Pickman finished eating well before Jason, but seemed content to watch him.

“You eat like an Englishman,” he said after a bit, nodding at the fork and knife in each of Jason’s hands.

“I had an English butler,” Jason quipped.

Pickman arched an eye at that. “Really? Is the Todd family prominent in Gotham? I thought Todd was a Scotch-Irish last name. Seems funny for a Celtic family to have an English butler. Other way to me, you know.”

“Pickman. You’re an ass. And there’s no Todd family, never mind a prominent one.”

“There’s no family? Then what the hell do you return to?”

“I have family. They’re just not blood. And mostly they’re annoying and I pretend they don’t exist. But I care for them.”

“You have taken strangers you don’t like and pretend they do not exist as your adoptive family?”

“Yes, but you’ve got it all backwards. The order of operation’s important. Gives you a different outcome.”

“I think I see.”

“I really doubt it.”

“People you care about who are not familial, but you are forced to either treat them as such or commit to ignoring them?”

“I guess. Sounds a bit vague that way, though.”

“Sometimes aloofness is the best way to survive society’s judgment.”

“Okay, I think I need to clear some things up. A couple of them are like baby brothers to me. Annoying, but I’d still help out in an emergency.”

“And some of them are older?”

“Yes. What of it?”

“Only that you mentioned when we first met that you already had a Richard in your life.”

“Jesus, Pickman. I was being passive aggressive.”

Pickman shrugged. “So it’s for these… _brothers_ that you go back for?”

“Yep. And a few others.”

“Your benefactor?”

“Mentor. Father figure. I don’t like how you say ‘benefactor.’”

“Father figure. Interesting. So not your actual father.”

“Nope. Actual father’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“That seems cold for you, Jason.”

“You didn’t know him. And you don’t really know me.”

“The deuce knows I’m trying here.”

“I know you are, Pickman. But I don’t reveal things even to people who have known me for years. I’m a bit surprised I’m telling you any of this, to be honest.”

“Then I’m honored. And I’ll try to remember that.”

-

They made their way out of downtown after their leisurely breakfast, as Pickman argued that there was nothing more suspicious than being in a hurry. Jason started to wonder if he could just don his Red Hood persona and maul everyone who gets in his way, including Pickman. But Alfred taught him manners, and one of those was not to engage in bodily harm with your host.

They walked back to Miskatonic U., stopping by Henry Armitage’s office for any updates. Pickman knocked on the closed door, lingering for a couple minutes before abandoning the idea of Armitage coming by.

“We’ll come back later, Todd,” Pickman said. “I’m sure he’s busy with a class.”

“He’s the only lead I have to getting back home,” Jason reminded him.

Pickman placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I know. Armitage will help you.”

Jason stood still until Pickman removed his hand, and the two made their way out of the Linguistics department.

“I need to check post and run it up to the dorm and then pick up a book.”

“Pickman, I thought you were showing me the tunnels?” Jason asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Jason kept his voice low and even, on the verge of threat.

“We must keep up appearances. I need to be seen performing my normal duties, not running off to the graveyard at first chance. I have a reputation.”

Jason waved him off. “I didn’t think artists cared about their reputations.”

“I’m not unfeeling, Jason.”

“Fine. Let’s go get your mail.”

The two men made their way around the university and finally left the school’s safety for the streets of Arkham once again. They walked to the town’s library, southwest a few blocks of the Sanitarium. Pickman placed the book loaned out to him in the satchel he went everywhere with, and then led Jason north.

Past Arkham Sanitarium was a low hill, lightly settled with a copse of woods. They entered through an open gateway where the surrounding noise faded away. Before them lay expansive, rugged grounds populated with flowing trees and rigid tombstones.

“The cemetery,” Pickman announced. “The tunnels are just past there.” He pointed to where a number of trees had grown too close together, twisting in and around each others’ trunks. “That’s where the voices come from. It’s here that I hear them loudest.”

Jason made his way forward, determined to see for himself what made the sounds that lured him through that inky blackness and landed him here. He moved past the trees, and before him three tunnel openings bared themselves. But the tunnels were dark, quiet, and empty.

Jason noticed Pickman’s presence by his shoulder. “When do you hear the voices or the growling?” Jason asked him.

“All times of day, but almost exclusively at night.”

“And what do people say about the noise?”

“I don’t think everyone can hear it.”

“That makes sense,” Jason mused. “It would explain why only a few patients in Gotham went missing instead of having the entire Asylum staff investigate.”

“What asylum?” Pickman asked.

“Back home, there are patients missing. I’m pretty damn sure they came here, just like I did.” _But where are they?_

Jason removed his focus from the tunnel entrances and looked around the wooded cemetery. The ground was covered in leaves, dirt, and headstones, and seemed relatively undisturbed. And then…

He spotted it from the periphery. The wrong color and material calling out to him as it lay on the ground, just barely emerging from behind the base of a tree twenty yards away. Jason made his way over, Pickman following behind him.

“Jason?” he called.

Jason, focused on what he knew he was going to find, ignored him. He reached the tree, and reached what was left of the person left to rot with the dead leaves. A white coat, shredded and bloody. The torso, open and cavernous, with the shell of a remaining rib cage, revealed the emptiness inside. Brown blood, old and dried out, covered the body. There was no head, and an arm was missing.

“Jesus Christ,” Jason muttered.

“Oh my God! Jason!” Pickman stammered out, his eyes roaming the body. “What happened? It looks like something fed on it!”

Jason didn’t reply. He stared at the Nike running shoes still laced on the person’s feet. It had been the shoes that Jason had caught from the corner of his eye.

“Is it one of your missing persons?” Pickman asked, noticing Jason’s gaze.

“Appears so.”

They stood there; Pickman unsure of what to do, Jason calculating height, build, and any physical information that could lead to an ID once he was back in Gotham. But Jason’s attention was called away.

A low, wet growling sound came from close by. Jason looked back towards the tunnels where a creature was prowling towards them. At first, it appeared like a large dog, with a canine-like face and pointed ears. But the bloodshot red eyes, bony claws, slouched posture, and half-hooved hind legs, didn’t correlate. Jason held out a protective arm in front of Pickman, and began to slowly back away -- retracing their steps towards the open gateway of the graveyard entrance, while keeping their eyes on the beast before them.

“It’s okay, Pickman. I got this,” Jason said in a low, calming voice. Pickman did not respond.

Another set of footsteps carefully made their way towards the two men from the gate entrance, almost like the tread was purposefully noisy to not surprise.

Jason kept his eyes on the beast, which had bared its teeth at them. “Pickman, what’s moving towards us?” He registered Pickman’s turn, and a slight gasp.

“It’s a man. He’s walking our way. I don’t know him.”

Jason knew that Pickman had never lived anywhere but Arkham; that Pickman knew everyone in this place.

The beast decided to launch itself at Pickman that moment, and Jason tackled him to the ground in safety. The beast missed its target, landed on all four limbs, and then leapt for the third, unknown man. Jason looked up and watched in horror as the beast flew at a man with a familiar stance, and features Jason knew immediately. In dark jeans and an unbuttoned navy coat that revealed a bit of a burnt orange shirt underneath, Dick Grayson was somehow standing in the cemetery. _Dick Grayson was here_. But his face turned to awe when he saw Dick quickly put his tumbling skills to use. He gracefully leapt into a back spring and a round off that had him both quickly springing from hands to his feet and out of the monster’s way.

Jason moved away from Pickman and got back up to stand.

“Dickie?” Jason called out, unphased by the situation before them.

Dick turned his head to Jason, eyes wide and full of concern peeking through his long, dark hair. And for a moment, Jason felt something like joy, like home, at seeing the person most familiar with him here in this strange place. The second of peace was snapped when the monster also turned towards Jason’s voice and attacked.

“Jay!” Dick yelled.

Jason landed a solid punch on the beast’s mass, knocking it down. Dick moved to Jason, assuming the backup defensive position that came naturally to him in situations like these. The monster attacked again, but this time Jason let it slip through so he could maneuver a forearm around its approximated neck. He gave a squeeze of pressure, then brought his other hand to the beast’s skull and tugged. The neck snapped and the monster went limp. Jason dropped the creature to the ground.

The three men stood in silence, Dick and Jason staring at each other, Pickman looking from one to the other. His gaze settled on Dick, taking in his form and lingering on the way Dick’s mouth was starting to tug into a smile and at the intense blue of his eyes.

“You know this guy, Jason?”

Both men looked at Pickman, slightly confused, until Jason gave a laugh.

“Look at that, Dickie. Finally, a person who doesn’t know who you are.”

“Shut up, Jay.” Dick walked towards the two men and extended his hand out to Pickman. “I’m Dick Grayson.” He motioned over to Jason. “I’m here for him.”

Pickman took Dick’s hand and gave a firm shake, though he narrowed his eyes like he was unsure of the man. Jason noted the way Pickman took in the sight of Dick Grayson: his feet were planted on the ground, strong and sure, and the way Dick leaned forward just a bit to ensure someone’s attention. The man had presence. Dick had always had presence.

“Pleasure. Richard Upton Pickman,” Pickman announced.

Dick’s smile widened at the name.

“He goes by Pickman,” Jason interrupted, before Dick could say something. Anything. He knew that look on Grayson’s face. But Jason’s eyes took in the rest of Dick’s appearance. He noticed now what he didn’t before in his surprise at seeing him here in this world. Dick’s hair was fairly normal, it always did its own thing, but his eyes were wan like he hadn’t slept.

"I saw you walking from the street," Dick said. "I've been looking all over for you!"

“When did you get here?” Jason asked him.

“Around one a.m."

“By yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“That was dumb, Dickie.”

“I know,” Dick said in words, but his face told Jason a bit of the desperation that drove his need to find him.

“Does B know you’re here?”

“What do you think?”

_Of course Bruce knows where Dick is._

“When did you last eat?”

“Blüdhaven.”

“Jesus, Dick. You need food and rest.”

“I’ve been scouring the town for you. Oh, I found that staff note about you here in Arkham Asylum.”

“It’s Arkham Sanitarium,” Jason and Pickman said at the same time.

“Already causing trouble, Mr. Todd,” Dick said with a grin, ignoring both men’s correction.

“Right,” Jason said, moving on. “We’ve got a dead body, and a monster carcass.”

“Should we alert the police station?” Pickman asked.

“No,” Jason said. “The dead person is from our world.” He motioned between himself and Dick. “From Gotham. We should bury the body. The carcass should probably be buried too. Or burned. Unless Armitage wants to take a look first.”

“I agree that we should consult Henry on this.”

“Okay. Dick, we’re going back to Pickman’s dorm room. You’re going to take the bed and get some sleep.”

“Pardon me?” Pickman asked while Dick started to splutter.

“What? Jay! I’m fine! I just found you!”

“Dick, you need to rest. And Pickman, I need you to help me with Armitage and the bodies.”

Pickman looked resigned. “I understand,” he said, while Dick muttered something about having defeated evil under harsher circumstances. “If you’ll follow me, gentlemen,” Pickman added, as he made his way towards the graveyard’s exit. He didn’t hear footsteps following, and turned back to look behind him. The two men stood closer to each, and he watched Dick reach out to pull Jason to him. Pickman catalogued that bit of information for later, and walked on.

:::

“We’re going to need shovels,” Jason said as soon as they reached Pickman’s room. “Or spades. Or something.”

“I’m sure we could peruse the campus garden shed for something appropriate.” Pickman ushered them inside and closed the door. Low, afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows. He moved to his desk and placed his ever-present satchel on to the desktop. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Grayson,” Pickman said while rummaging through his bag, pulling out a book. “The bed’s over there if you’d like to rest.”

“‘ _Mr. Grayson?’”_ Dick mouthed at Jason as he made his way to the bed. Jason just shrugged. Dick stopped in front of the bed and started pulling off clothes. He shrugged out of his coat and jeans, leaving himself in only his t-shirt, socks, and boxers.

Jason caught Pickman with a bemused look on his face. “Don’t mind him,” Jason said to him. “That’s just Dick.” Pickman went back to sorting the items from his bag.

Dick had climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over himself when Jason walked over. He sat on the edge of the bed in front of Dick, and for a while, could do nothing but look at him. Jason hadn’t realized how _off_ this town was until Dick came. The sights and smells of Arkham seemed strange now with Dick looking and smelling of Gotham. Jason’s eyes roamed over the form in front of him, thinking how Dick was covered in home. How he came from there to find him. To bring him back. Jason wanted to feel that familiar sense of Dick. He wanted to breathe him in, to feel like Gotham again. _Eat me, drink me, love me…_

“What are you thinking about, Jay?” Dick asked in a quiet voice.

_Make much of me..._

Jason cleared his throat. “Uh, about ‘Goblin Market’ actually.”

“That poem with the girls?”

“Yeah. The girl who saves her sister from the taint of the goblin men.”

Dick huffed out a laugh. “ _Taint_ ,” he repeated, full of humor.

“You know what I mean, Dick.”

“I do,” he agreed. And then, “I’m here to save you from the goblin men, Jay.”

Jason's mind latched on to Dick's words, on the poem.

_Did you miss me?_

_Come and kiss me._

“I think I’ll inquire about a room at the inn,” Pickman said suddenly, interrupting Jason's thoughts. “It’s getting a bit crowded in here.”

“What, getting tired of me already, Pickman?” Jason teased. He stood up from the bed, remembering that he had a list of things to do. He walked back towards the other man.

“I can’t tire of something that isn’t mine,” Pickman said in a low voice.

Jason reached the desk and looked at Pickman while the latter avoided Jason’s face.

“I don’t belong here,” Jason said.

“Let’s get going,” Pickman said instead. “We should speak with Henry. And of course, the graveyard.”

“Right.” Jason turned to Dick, whose eyes were closed and face looked peaceful. “Dick, stay here. We’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” Dick said.

“I mean it, Dickie. I’m not B, so don’t agree to something and then do the opposite.”

“I’ll stay here, Jay.” Dick rolled over on the bed, the expanse of his back in view. Beneath the soft cotton shirt was muscle and litheness all at once. A typical Dick Grayson conundrum.

“Alright, Pickman. Let’s go.”

:::

Jason and Pickman visited Dr. Armitage first.

The linguistics professor ushered them inside without preamble and turned immediately to Jason.

“I am almost ready to test the translations. You said the portal you came through is in the Sanitarium, yes?”

Jason responded with a simple nod.

“Closing the portal may prove difficult, but my concern for now is getting you back to your own city.”

“And his friend,” Pickman supplied.

Armitage’s eyes widened. “There is another?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jason admitted. “That makes for a total of seven to cross over from Gotham.”

“But how were you led here?”

“There was a noise,” Jason told the professor. “A growl.”

“You were called,” Armitage stated. “You will need something to call you back, I think. I may have something to help enhance the communication between our worlds. It may help you and your friend to travel home. But I’m afraid I have mostly focused my expertise on closing the gateway. An error, I see now, considering that you do not wish to remain here.”

“And what about the beasts? And the tunnels?” Jason asked.

“Carter comes tonight, if he is not anymore delayed. The beasts are where he comes in handy.”

“Henry,” Pickman said. “Jason killed one of the monsters today. With only his hands. He can help us.”

“He doesn’t belong here. Surely you don’t want to see him separated from his own world?”

Pickman said nothing at that, but Jason could guess by the look on his face that Pickman was wondering how much of Jason’s world was actually sleeping in his dorm room at the moment.

“However,” Armitage amended, “I don’t wish to promise something I can’t deliver, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need to test the words. I’ll need you, Jason, and your friend, to be ready for whatever experiment lies before us.”

“We’ll be ready. When do you want us?”

“I need to prepare some more. And I need to confer with Carter. I believe tomorrow should hold promise. Where is your friend now?”

“In my dorm, for the moment,” Pickman said.

“What? Here on campus?”

“I think I should take them to the inn, instead.”

“I’d say so,” Armitage agreed. “Look at the size of this fellow!” He swept his hand in the air to indicate Jason’s mass. “Go ahead and tell Ruby to bill me for the room. And hopefully by tomorrow, you and your friend will be home.”

“Thank you, Dr. Armitage,” Jason said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it’s fine. That’s the easy part. It’s the portal I’m concerned with.”

“And the dead beast? Do you want to look at it? Otherwise, it’s gonna burn.”

“No, I think a quick and efficient disposal is best.”

Dr. Armitage waved the two men out of his office after that – Jason and Pickman content to move on in their errands.

They found the university’s groundskeeper’s shed and commandeered a shovel, then made their way back to the cemetery. The two men walked contentedly in silence before Pickman broke it.

“He calls you ‘Jay,’” Pickman said once they had passed into the quiet and tranquility of the graveyard.

Jason kept walking.

“And you call him ‘Dickie’…I suppose he’s the Richard you mentioned yesterday?”

“That’s him.”

“I’ve never seen anyone move like that before. Such natural athleticism.”

“He’s an acrobat,” Jason said. “Raised in the Big Top.”

“Really? How interesting…an acrobat,” Pickman said quietly to himself.

“Dick was born for the main stage, the center ring. He’s the best of us.”

“This family that’s not family of yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you also from the circus?”

“No. Only Dick has that privilege. We all became something else, later. Dick’s the one who keeps us together. He’s been called a ‘universal constant,’ which means that there’s probably a shiny, happy Dick Grayson in this realm fighting for those who can't help themselves.”

“Is that what you do? And Dick? Fight for others?”

“We each have our own idea of what that means.”

“You killed that beast with your bare hands.”

Jason ignored Pickman, opting instead to start digging a grave in the soft, loose dirt.

“Jason,” Pickman called. “You defeated that monster so easily. You could do so much good work here. Why don’t you stay and help us? Why leave us to this burden?”

Jason stopped digging. “Look, I know I’m impressive,” he said with a grin, “but what I did is something you and Armitage and Carter could do as long as you had some weapons. Fire off a couple rounds to the head and your problem’s taken care of.

“But every second I’m away from Gotham, every second that Dick’s away, is more time for the monsters that _we_ fight to hurt our people. I deal with monsters everyday: human monsters, alien monsters, magical monsters. And as crazy as my home sounds, I think it’s safer for me there than here.”

Pickman looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Arkham’s problems are different than Gotham’s, but some problems are similar too. There’s madness here. Not a curable one. I can’t stay here. I’d probably end up becoming a danger to you.”

“You told Henry that you’d been mad before.”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t hyperbole?”

“No.” Jason hopped into the hole he’d dug out and started widening the area.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” Pickman said. “You don’t deserve this.”

Jason gave a gruff laugh.

“That’s debatable.” Jason shoved more dirt to the surface.

They worked quietly after that, Jason digging while Pickman moved the body and creature carcass towards the edge of the pit.

“Do I need to climb out of here and drag the bodies myself?” Jason had threatened when Pickman hesitated.

“No, no. I can do it. This is all so gruesome,” Pickman had said.

“Well, I’m not fond of pits, so…”

Jason didn’t elaborate.

In the end, Jason pushed both bodies into the grave. He poured some lamp oil he’d made Pickman stash in his bag over the dead and threw a few handfuls of dried leaves on top. Jason struck a match and threw it in.

The two men watched the funeral pyre, staying until all was ash. By the time Jason was done shoveling dirt back, the sun had extinguished itself to reveal a starry night. Then they walked back to Miskatonic University, Jason shaking out his jacket and brushing off his jeans along the way.

After replacing the shovel, they made their way back to Pickman’s dorm. They found Dick sitting in the velvet chair, reading a book in front of a crackling fire.

“You guys took forever,” Dick said.

Jason just smiled at him. And then he remembered.

“Come on, Dickie. Pickman and Dr. Armitage are vouching for a hotel room for us.”

He walked over to Dick and pulled him to his feet by the hand.

“After a meal, of course,” Pickman amended.

Dick walked over to Pickman and gave him a hug. “You’re the best, Pickman!”

“No, really, it’s the least I could do,” Pickman managed, his face revealing a light blush over Dick’s enthusiasm. "Let me place the screen in front of the fire first before we leave."

Jason ushered them out, shaking his head at the fact that no matter where or when, Dick would always be Dick.

-

They stood in front of a red door of a blue, four story gabled manor with Pickman inside arranging their room for them with the host.

“What do you think, Jay?”

“I think ‘I see a red door and I want it painted black.’”

“Maybe then you’ll ‘fade away and not have to face the facts?’” Dick responded.

Jason laughed. “I’ve missed this.”

“Yeah, well, as much as you like The Stones, don’t be bleak. We’re going back after a good night’s rest. Plus, I know how much you actually like red.”

“I can’t lie to you can I?”

“I think I know all your tells by now.” Dick flashed Jason a grin and entered the inn to find Pickman. Jason stood on the steps a bit longer, Dick’s words swirling around his brain, and then walked in after him.

Pickman offered to take the two men to their room on the third floor. He opened the door for them and handed Jason the key.

“That was weirdly chivalrous, Pickman,” Jason said.

“I can’t have anyone complain that I didn’t see this through.”

The way Pickman lingered by the door made Jason suspect that it wasn’t any agreements with Armitage that he was referring to. If he had to guess, Jason figured that Pickman was still hoping that he would stay behind.

“Goodnight, Pickman,” he said instead.

“Yeah! Goodnight!” Dick chirped from the room. “Thanks for everything!”

Jason stood in the doorway until Pickman turned and left. He closed the door and walked into the room some more to take in his surroundings. Dick stood at the window, overlooking the streets of Arkham through the gauzy window dressings. Two double beds were situated next to each other against the main wall.

“See anything interesting out there?” Jason called.

“I’m watching Pickman walk away in a hurry. His shoulders are way rigid, and I can’t tell for sure, but I feel like he’s scowling.”

“That’s his problem.”

“I don’t think he likes me.”

“He’s impressed and threatened by you. But it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving. No matter what he wants.”

“He wants you to stay?”

“Like I said; it doesn’t matter.”

“You collect the most interesting people, Jason.”

“And you don’t?”

Dick smiled.

“You know, I don’t lie to be malicious,” Jason said, still thinking back to outside the inn and Dick’s words that were thrown out so casually.

Dick’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry, Jay. I wasn’t trying to implicate anything. Just that I know you.”

“I know what you were saying. And I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We will.”

“We have more fun than fight these days.”

Jason sighed. There were words, wrapping themselves around Jason’s brain, trying to form something tangible. But how did he say that he was both happy and afraid that there was someone in his life who knew his tells? Who would jump through a strange substance to find him?

They looked at each other for a moment, before Jason stalked off.

“I’m taking a shower,” he said and closed the door of the bathroom behind him. He took a deep breath once there was a physical barrier between them, then got on with it. He stripped out of his clothes, ran the shower, and stepped in. He felt the water rush over him and the dirt and grime from digging in the graveyard swirled in the water at his feet. He clutched a bar of soap that he’d grabbed off the vanity and began to scrub. He started from the top and worked his way down, figuring that soap was soap and using it on his face and hair first. When he was finished with his shower, he felt clean but not quite himself. He felt more covered in Arkham than before.

He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his clothes bundled gingerly in his hands, moving towards a small writing desk between the window and the radiator. Jason gave his clothes a shake and then draped them individually over the furniture.

“Airing your clothes out?” Dick asked.

“Yeah. It’s been a few days for me.” Jason finished his task and turned around to face Dick. “You gonna shower?”

“I was thinking so. I mean, I did sleep on a rooftop last night. But I had just showered before coming here.”

“It’s probably just your clothes that are dirty.”

“I’ll just wash my face then.” Dick stood up and made his way to the bathroom. “Are there any toothbrushes here?”

“I found a couple in the drawer on the right. Didn’t see any toothpaste though.”

“Oh well. Better than nothing,” Dick said.

Jason toweled at his hair one more time and then threw the towel at Dick.

“Hang this up, will ya?”

“This better not be the only towel.”

“It’s not. Look in the cupboard.”

“Good. I hate wet towels,” he said and then shut the door behind him.

Jason climbed into the bed furthest from the bathroom, feeling the linens brush against his bare skin. Everything felt so wrong. He tried to relax his body, to tune out everything around him that was overloading his senses. He listened to Dick run the tap, splash water on his face, lather up the soap. He tried not to think of Dick washing away Gotham, of washing away himself.

When he was done, Dick moved to where Jason’s clothes lay and shucked out of his own to leave in a heap on the floor. He then walked to the other bed and climbed in.

Jason turned off the lamp in between them, moonlight and streetlamps casting strange glows about the room. They lay in their own beds in silence.

“You seem far away, Jay,” Dick said.

“I’m right here. We’re sharing a room.”

“Then I guess I feel far away.” There was more silence. “I feel like I’m losing you. To this place.”

“No way. There’s no god damn way I’m staying here.”

“My bed’s cold.”

Jason spoke before he thought. “Come here.”

Dick didn’t hesitate. He pushed out of his bed and slid into Jason’s, squirming his way to get close, but settling on his back so as to not be too invasive.

In the safe comfort between them, Jason spoke to the man who would understand. “I want to go home, Dick.” He curled onto his side and pushed his face as close as he dared to Dick’s neck. He breathed in deeply. “You smell like home,” he said.

Dick pulled Jason closer; wrapping an arm around his back, fingers tangled in Jason’s hair. Jason pressed his face into the nook of Dick’s neck and shoulder, felt the thrum of life beneath the flesh. He could taste the skin on his lips, and he parted them a bit in a desperate attempt for more. He wanted to bury himself in Dick, in the places where his scent was strongest: to taste at his throat or to surround himself with the innerness of Dick’s thighs. He wanted him in undiluted glory.

Dick turned to face Jason, pulling him up flush with his body, leaving nothing but skin and heat between them, and arms wrapped around each other in comfort.

“Why are you doing this, Dick?”

“Because I want to.”

Jason looked at Dick’s face, barely visible in the moonlight.

“What do you want, Jason?”

_To act on my desire without admitting to the man who knows my tells._

“I can’t lie to you, can I?” Jason asked for the second time that night.

“You could always try. But if you tell me the truth, I might surprise you.”

Jason moved his hands to cradle Dick’s face, then swiped a thumb across the man’s lips.

“What do you want?” Dick whispered.

“I don’t want another vice, Dickie. But I don’t want regret.”

“No vices,” Dick agreed. “No regret.”

"I don't want to lose what we've become."

"I don't give up that easy. I seem to remember reaching out to save your dumb ass even when you were murdering people."

"Please, Dick. Don't stop reaching for me. I know I'll mess up again."

"That's not you."

"Not any more."

"Not even then, Jay. Not fully. But I promise. To reach."

Jason closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"You've always had a big heart," Dick said.

And Jason's heart wanted Dick.

Jason moved on instinct. He had always moved on instinct. He moved his hands away from Dick’s face and gripped either side of the man’s hips instead. He worked to lift Dick over him as Jason rolled onto his back, and Dick clued in to hike a leg over in a beautiful straddle. Jason felt the warmth of Dick sitting on him, ran his hands over his thighs and back up his torso, his shoulders, and pulled the man down.

The kiss was soft, testing.

Jason felt Dick’s mouth open and he pushed through with his tongue, tasting Dick, breathing Dick, while hands roamed over skin, through hair. Dick pulled away slightly, his mouth moving along Jason’s face, his jaw line, his throat. Jason tilted his head back, exposing more for Dick to kiss. Dick responded in heat, and rocked his hips into Jason with a soft groan.

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason said, feeling Dick’s wanting, his hardness, and the slight wetness between them.

“I want you, Jay,” Dick mumbled into Jason’s flesh.

Jason smoothed a hand down Dick’s side and reached between them. He curled his fingers around Dick’s cock and circled the tip with his thumb, gliding with the precome. Dick pulled Jason back for another deep kiss, as Jason gave an easy pump of his hand and a gentle thrust of his own into the cleft of Dick’s nestled ass.

They moved against each other, with each other, in each other; Jason listening to Dick’s breaths coming quicker, shorter. He broke their position; wrestled Dick to his back and kissed his chest, his stomach, leaving a trail traveling down.

“Don’t want to leave a mess now, do we?” Jason asked with a grin.

Dick just panted, his hand stroking Jason’s hair.

Jason placed himself between Dick’s legs, nosed the v of where his pelvis met his thigh, and breathed deeply. He moved his hand to massage Dick’s balls and licked his way up the shaft before swallowing him down. The noises that came out of Dick’s mouth made Jason’s own cock leak, desire flooding through him, as more lines of "Goblin Market" ran through his thoughts: _h_ _ug me, kiss me, suck my juices_.

“Jay...I'm..I'm close. I’m so close.”

Jason moaned around him. He sucked harder, pressed the pad of his thumb to the soft area behind Dick’s balls, and the man was coming. Jason stayed still for a few heartbeats, then slowly pulled his mouth off and swallowed. Dick remained on his back, his chest rising and falling, then he reached out for Jason.

Jason let himself be led back to the comfort of Dick’s arms, feeling their warmth, until Dick started to push himself away.

“My turn, Jason,” he said.

Jason’s brain stopped working when he felt the wet heat of Dick’s mouth around him, the pressure and flick of his tongue, his strong hands and long, dexterous fingers. Jason grabbed a fistful of Dick’s hair, leaving enough slack for him to maneuver, as he tried to still his hips from thrusting down Dick’s throat. He felt Dick hum encouragement in a voice that was more of a beautiful gravel than his normally light, playful tone. _Yes, Dickie, yes._

He gave out a warning and then Jason’s entire body surged.

When he finished, Jason felt open and soft, and let himself melt into the bed. Dick kneaded at Jason’s thighs for a bit, pressing his lips to the flesh, before abandoning the area completely. He crawled back to Jason’s side and covered themselves with the bedding, both of them quickly losing to sleep.

“I like this, Jay,” Dick said quietly.

Jason squeezed Dick closer to himself in reply and drifted off.

“Me too, Dickie,” he said before sleep took him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts from Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market" and can be read here: www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44996/goblin-market
> 
> Jason and Dick quote lyrics from The Rolling Stones' "Paint It Black."


	3. The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason and Dick try to find their way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final installment of the adventures of Jason, Dick, and Pickman. Thank you so much for your patience while I worked on this (and took breaks to write other things and to read other beautiful Jaydick fics). Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy the conclusion :)
> 
> Minor edits and some extra lines added 3.1.18.

Jason and Dick woke to knocking on their door.

They were both curled up on their sides, Dick molding himself to the curve of Jason’s back and ass. Sunlight flooded through the window, and the two men felt warm and comforted by their shared bed.

“Jason,” came a voice from the other side of the door. “It’s Pickman. Please tell me you’re there.”

Jason and Dick sat up and stared at the door before Jason leapt out of the bed.

“I’m here, Pickman. We’re both here. Just give me a second.”

Dick watched Jason call out to the man at the door as he pulled on his boxers. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head as he walked towards the room door.

“You’re tenting, Jay,” Dick called out quietly. “Pickman doesn’t need this much excitement so early in the day.” He gave a mischievous grin.

Jason tucked himself up into the waistband of his boxers and opened the door.

“Pickman. What?” Jason barked out.

Pickman took in Jason’s appearance. “You’re not dressed? Were you sleeping?”

“It’s fine. We’re up now.”

“Where’s Dick?”

“Morning, Pickman,” Dick called out, still in bed and invisible to the door.

“He’s awake. What is it?”

“Well, there’s a commotion over at the Sanitarium. They’ve started removing patients.”

“Okay. We’ll get dressed and check it out.”

“The deuce you want to do that? It’s after nine in the morning! Get dressed and we’ll sit down to breakfast. I’m starving!” Pickman looked past Jason to the clothes draped over the desk and chair, and to the pile of clothes on the floor. “It’s a shame you two didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Yes, I left my portal-hopping weekend bag at home. My mistake.”

Pickman heard the sound of muffled laughter coming from inside the room and he narrowed his eyes at Jason.

“When you’re ready,” he said, “I’ll be downstairs in the sitting room.”

Jason looked at the man before him, suddenly unsure how to handle him. When he had landed in Arkham, he had quickly come to depend on Pickman. But with Dick by his side, he felt more like Jason Todd, the Red Hood of Gotham. He didn’t need Pickman to help him navigate the situation. But by the looks of it, Jason had just provided Pickman with a bit of emotional whiplash.

“One last breakfast together, huh?” Jason offered as an olive branch.

“We must send you off right.”

“Thanks, Pickman. Give me a sec, okay?”

Dick watched Jason shut the door and turn back around, walking back to the beds. They took a moment to look at each other until there was a grin on Jason’s face and Dick gave a quick huff of a laugh. Dick stood up from the bed and moved to Jason’s chest, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Time for you to put some clothes on, Dickie.”

-

The walk to Velma’s Diner proved shorter from the Inn than from Pickman’s dorm room at the University. They sat at Pickman’s usual table, this time with an extra chair for Dick. The waitress took their orders, then looked at Pickman with a jut of her chin in Dick and Jason’s direction. “Where do you keep finding them?” she asked with a laugh.

Dick watched her form walk away from their table and then started.

“What’s going on at the Sanitarium?” He looked at Pickman with a slight tilt to his head, a lock of hair falling into his face before he swept it back with a hand.

“Word is that a number of rooms and hallways in the place suddenly became unfit over night. There were a few deaths. The staff and patients are evacuating to St. Mary’s Hospital.”

“Jesus, Pickman!” Jason broke in. “We should be helping them! Not sitting here drinking coffee and waiting for our plates of eggs!”

“I’m not drinking coffee,” Dick said, peering at his cup.

Jason sighed. “We can ask the waitress for cream and more sugar when we see her, okay? It’s not a big deal!”

“She didn’t even _ask_ how I like my coffee,” Dick complained.

“What do you even care? I’ve seen what you eat.”

“Jay, you know how much I like sugar.”

Pickman ignored their chatter.

“Henry and Carter are there. It’s fine. They’re taking care of things. The people here know and respect them. They won’t think too kindly of taking orders from you two.”

“We’ve led stranger teams,” Dick said. “I think I’m pretty good at giving orders, actually.”

Jason just laughed. “Yeah? How was it with the Baby Titans or whatever.”

Dick snorted. “Don’t let Dami hear you. Oh! That’s what I wanted to tell you! They’re a bunch of mini assholes!”

“I already knew that.”

“They were so certain of every little thing they were doing; I spent the entire time cleaning up their messes.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“They were also pretty adorable, though. They’re so small! Sometimes they’d pass out on the floor after a mission without making it to their rooms!”

“That’s a trip hazard.”

Breakfast was set down before them, along with cream and sugar. Dick looked up from his coffee to see Jason beside him watching Pickman. The man across the table was spreading jam on his toast, but Dick could also see the way Pickman’s shoulders slumped – just a little – and his determined focus on his breakfast.

“I wish I could repay you for everything you’ve done,” Dick said to the man, trying to bring him back to the fold.

Pickman looked up, straightened his posture, and waved a hand at Dick.

“I’ve had excellent entertainment these last few days,” Pickman said. “I’d call us square. May even get something out of it.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, but Pickman refused to elaborate, instead turning his attention back to his breakfast. Dick looked to Jason who just gave a small shrug.

:::

They made their way to Arkham Sanitarium after eating, where the staff was sectioning off groups of patients to make their way to St. Mary’s Hospital. The three of them waded through the staggered crowds in an attempt to gain entrance.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we found an alternate way in?” Pickman asked.

“No,” Jason and Dick said at the same time before Jason took over. “We need information. We can’t run in without knowing more of what’s going on.”

“The asylum had a notation that of the five people to appear, three of them were dead,” Dick said.

“Plus, we found one out in the cemetery,” Jason added.

“We need to make sure their bookkeeping adds up,” Dick explained.

They made it to the front steps and paused.

Hobbling out with the help of another staff member, Nurse Waite slowly descended the many steps towards them sporting a vibrant red gash to the hairline. There was blood matted in her hair, running down the side of her face. Jason made his way quickly to her.

“Still here I see, Mr. Todd.”

“I’m here to do what I can to help and then I’m out of here.” Jason placed a supportive arm around her waist and she waved off the staff member.

“You promise?”

Jason smiled. “You’ll never see me again as long as things turn out the way I hope.”

She watched Jason take in the blood. “Head wound. Looks worse than it is.”

“I know.”

“Who’s your friend?” She gestured to Grayson who was approaching still and with Pickman behind him.

“That’s Dick. He’s coming back to Jersey with me.”

“He can stay if he wants,” she said with a laugh.

Jason grinned in surprise, but glad of the light banter.

“Is he attached to anyone?”

“Uh, he sort of is. Maybe. Attached to someone.”

“Perhaps it’s not serious.”

“I kinda hope it is, actually.”

Nurse Waite sighed at him. “I knew I didn’t like you, Mr. Todd.”

Dick walked over and Jason made formal introductions. The two shook hands, but Dick kept a hold of her, enveloping her hand with both of his. Charming bastard.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.”

“And you, Nurse Waite,” Dick said with a smile on his face. “Can you tell me how many of the John Doe’s are still alive?”

“We found two Johns, three Janes. Then Mr. Todd. And now you. One woman was killed. Another man and woman killed themselves, we believe. One man escaped the sanitarium.”

“We found him,” Jason said.

“Alive?”

Jason shook his head.

“There’s one more patient. She’s in a ward that still needs evacuated. In the C Wing, with two other patients.” Nurse Waite looked to Jason and pressed a ring of keys to him. “Go save her.”

“I’ll leave the keys under the welcome mat,” Jason grinned.

Nurse Waite looked beyond Dick and Jason. “Is Mr. Pickman going with you?”

Pickman stepped forward. “I’ll be assisting.”

“Dr. Armitage and his friend are already inside. Bring them and yourself back safely, Mr. Pickman.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nurse Waite motioned for the staff member to come get her. “I will be at St. Mary’s, Mr. Todd. Don’t make me clean up after you.”

Jason laughed. “With what we’re dealing with? You know I can’t make any promises.”

“Then it’s goodbye.”

“Nurse,” the male staff member said, “we need to go. It’s too dangerous.”

Jason transferred her to the man who had helped her down the steps and Dick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Evacuate the last few patients, Todd,” she said. “I’m counting on you.”

They watched her retreating form before turning to face the entrance.

Jason, Dick, and Pickman took the last of the stairs and stepped over the threshold.

_

The doors of Arkham Sanitarium closed shut after them, leaving them in darkness except for the meager light that filtered through the dirty windows. The lighting system appeared to have blown out and there was shattered glass along the floor at the walls. The floors, though, had been replaced by a churning dirt. A growl came from the depths of the building.

“What happened?” Dick asked.

“I think it’s been provoked,” Pickman said.

“What?”

Pickman looked at Dick and explained. “Henry Armitage is here. And he brought the Necronomicon. We must find him and send you back. And then we must stop this.”

“We have to evacuate the rest of the patients.”

“Jason, that’s what the hospital staff is for,” Pickman said.

“Not anymore. We’re in charge now.”

They cautiously moved forward towards the double doors both Jason and Dick had passed through previously. They walked into the hallway and found themselves at a junction.

“This was not like this before.”

“I know, Dickie.”

They continued to move forward, the sounds of their footfalls muffled by the loose soil covering the ground.

“We need to find Henry, Jason.”

“We need to find the C Wing, Pickman.”

“We need to not get lost,” Dick said.

-

They got lost.

“This place is so different,” Dick said, running a hand over the walls. “Ew! There’s something on the walls.”

“Don’t betray your cool exterior,” Jason said. Then, “Dick, are you sure you don’t have any tech in your coat pockets?”  
“I told you, Jay. They were gone the moment I was pulled through the blackness. Just like your hair dye.”

“You change your hair color, Jason?”

“Usually just the white stripe. In our line of work, we don’t need any identifying marks.”

“From what you’ve said, it sounds like what you do is, well, intense,” Pickman said.

“We’re vigilantes,” Jason supplied.

“See,” Dick said, “Jason here’s the weapons and explosives expert. The fact that he even works with explosives is also why he’s the rebel of the group. But me? I’m good with just my _body_.”

“Jesus Christ, Dick.”

“What? Okay, sometimes I use a few toys, but not usually. Wish I had my escrima sticks… As far as fighting styles, B’s definitely a street version Krav Maga guy, whereas I’m more of a Capoiera guy, you know?”

“We’re all mixed martial arts, Dickie.”

“I actually don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pickman said. “Who’s B?”

“And Jay’s more of a…”

“If you say ‘parkour’ I’m going to hit you.”

“Good thing I was going to say ‘brute force’ then,” Dick lied.

“Oh, thank God.”

“Yeah, I did that already. Last night.” Dick gave Jason a wink that he probably couldn’t see so he gave him a nudge, too.

“Dickie. Shut up.”

“What if I referred to you as ‘The Lock Pick Kid?’”

“God dammit, Tim,” Jason mumbled.

“Aww, I like the Santa Prisca story. Don’t blame Tim.”

“You two need to pay attention,” Pickman said. “We need to find Henry.”

“We are paying attention. Probably more than you are.”

“Come on, Jay. He’s just not used to us.” Dick turned to their companion. “Don’t worry, Pickman. We do this all the time.”

But then both Dick and Jason fell silent and stopped moving.

“What?” asked Pickman. “What is it?”

“There’s something ahead,” said Dick.

“Hush,” Jason said.

“I hope not.”

Jason gave an exasperated sigh. “You know what I mean!”

“Of course I do! I’m only making conversation!”

“And I’m trying to hear what’s readying to attack us!”

“Well, it’s obviously those dog things,” Dick said, and as if to prove his point, a low growl emanated from thirty feet in front of them.

“There’s a ghoul here?” Pickman asked.

“Two of them,” Jason answered.

“How do you know? It’s too damned dark in here to see anything!”

Jason ignored Pickman. “Dick, you want to take point or no?”

“I’ll take point.”

Jason felt Dick move past him, then turned his attention to Pickman.

“Stay close. Don’t run off.”

“I don’t plan on running.”

“Good. Because there’s another beast behind us.”

Jason disseminated the careful footfalls of Dick moving forward from the soft padding coming up from behind.

“Pickman, stay in the middle. Try not to get in Dick’s way.”

“I don’t know what anyone’s doing! No one can see anything; how do you plan to fight?”

“Oh, this is easy,” Dick called from a few steps ahead. “Seriously, Pickman. Stop worrying. Jay and I have fought worse.”

There was another growl and then running from both directions of the corridor.

Jason stood his ground, adopting a defensive stance. He could hear the running, the growls, Pickman’s mumbled curses, Dick’s faint steady breathing from ahead. He lashed out when he felt the thing in reach, grabbing the beast and slamming it into the wall. He pushed Pickman to the side and made for Dick, hoping to deal with one of the two Dick was facing before his own recovered.

“On the ground, Jay,” Dick said when he realized what Jason was looking for.

Jason felt for the thing, felt a sticky pulse. Just as he had in the graveyard, Jason broke the creature’s neck and then re-oriented himself for the one he’d left behind. Dick moved to his side, having cast off a dead beast himself. The final ghoul leapt at them, and Jason felt Dick move in that familiar way. So quick and nimble and full of laughter.

They were left in silence again until Pickman broke it.

“Are they done?”

“They’re done,” Dick said. He felt Jason standing at his side and reached out a hand for him. Jason entwined his fingers in Dick’s and gave a light squeeze to let Dick know all was fine.

Jason let go of Dick’s hand when he heard footsteps start up again from ahead of them in the corridor. Dick felt for Pickman and threw an arm in front of him as a precaution.

The footsteps were accompanied by the light of a lantern, illuminating a male figure. Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s Dr. Armitage,” he said.

The three began walking towards the light until they were close enough for Henry Armitage to call out, “Is that you, Mr. Todd? And Pickman?”

“Yes, sir,” Pickman said. “We’re here. Finally.”

“And whose fault was that, Pickman?” Jason asked. He didn’t begrudge the guy from wanting to draw out what Jason hoped was his last day in Arkham. But it also didn’t mean he wasn’t going to bristle when accusations were thrown out without ownership. Of course Pickman didn’t know it was a pet peeve of Jason’s. Dick did, and he gave Jason a squeeze of his hip that said _I know._

Pickman ignored Jason, continuing instead to talk with Armitage.

“We brought the acquaintance as well.”

Dick sniggered. “ _Acquaintance._ ”

“You watch yourself, Dickie,” Jason whispered. “I’m pretty sure there are laws during this time against what we did.”

Dick whispered back, “Not possible. We’d have to commit full buggery to be punished.”

“Wow. You just don’t hold back. And I disagree.”

“Where is Mr. Carter?” Pickman asked Armitage.

“He’s up ahead and to the right. We heard voices, of the English language and went to find out who was here. But then we heard more voices, also speaking English. I offered to go look and I found you three.”

Jason and Dick had caught up to Pickman and Armitage, with Armitage holding the lantern up high to get a look at Pickman’s new find. He examined Dick’s face, then held out his hand.

“Hello there. I’m Henry Armitage.”

Dick grasped his hand. “Dick Grayson. Nice to meet you. I hear you’re our ticket out of here?”

Armitage laughed. “I hope so. I need you and Mr. Todd to show me where this portal is that you both came through.”

“That might be more difficult than we previously thought,” Jason said. “The sanitarium’s changed.”

“Yes. That, I am aware of. However, with the Necronomicon, I believe I can amplify the otherworldly call of the portal. Hopefully, we can hear something from the otherside that will lead us to it, much like it did to draw you two through in the beginning.”

“When we came through, it was in the, uh, more original part of the building,” Dick said. “Towards the back, northwest side in what would be a basement floor due to the hill slope.”

“I see. We can move in that direction after we get back with Carter and find whoever else is here.”

“There are a few more patients,” Jason said.

“Then let’s be on our way.”

They continued walking the corridor until they turned right at a junction. Low, indistinguishable voices wafted towards them as they moved forward, looking for any sign of Carter.

“He moved this way,” Armitage said. “I’m sure of it.”

At the end of the hallway was another set of double doors. Armitage raised his lantern to read the sign overhead.

“C Wing.”

“This is what we want,” Jason said. “Nurse Waite said the last patients were in here.”

They pushed through the doors and found a short hallway with a large window at the end. Dirt had built up to cover a good portion, but a dull light managed to peak in through the top of the window. There were six doors, three on each side. A man stood with a lantern at his feet by a door in the middle, like he had just raised his head from pressing his ear to the door.

“Henry,” the man called out. “I’ve had no response yet. Not sure if they can even hear me.”

“Or we may not be able to hear them. I believe the C Wing houses thickly insulated walls and doors.” Armitage stepped forward, to mediate between the two groupings. “Mr. Carter. We have Mr. Todd and Mr. Grayson here with us. They’re the ones who need to go through the portal.”

Mr. Carter didn’t pay them much attention, his eyes still focused on the door in front of him.

“And this is Mr. Pickman, of course. A local.”

“I don’t understand it,” Carter said instead. “I heard voices. _You_ heard them. But if these are padded cells, then how…”

Jason stepped forward and pulled out the keys Nurse Waite had given him.

“How ‘bout we open them up and see what’s inside?” He moved to the door closest to him and inserted the heavy key into its lock. There was a loud _click!_ and he pulled the door open. The room was a small, perfect square, with padded walls and a small cot against the wall. It was empty. Jason moved down a door and opened that one. There was an immediate difference in this one. In the middle of the floor sat a small woman, dressed in what Jason supposed was patient wear: a white dress with a high neck and long sleeves. The woman had long silvery gray hair that seemed to shimmer when the strands caught the glow of the lantern. She stared at the men before her, not saying a word. Jason turned to Carter.

“Stay with her and see if she has anything to say.”

Jason moved on to another cell to find it empty and then to another. That room also held a woman, this time younger. She was dressed identical to the other woman – same white dress that seemed to cover everything. But this young woman’s eyes seemed dull and downcast; a distinct contrast to the older woman’s fierceness held in her gaze. Jason gave her a once over, which was mostly noting that her dress was the same as the other’s. But he thought her hair might be of a modern cut.

He moved closer to her, making sure she saw him before he spoke.

“We’re evacuating the building,” Jason said.

“Great. Where are we going now?”

“You’ve been moved before?”

“I’m in an entirely new hospital. They say it’s Arkham, but it’s not.”

“This is Arkham, Massachussetts.”

The woman laughed.

“What did they drug me with to move me to a different state? You sound like you’re from Gotham. Tell me the truth.” Her unfocused eyes were immediately alert and they sharpened themselves onto Jason’s.

“I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” Jason said.

“I think that’s the first thing I’ve heard all week that I believe.”

“Let’s get you back then. You’re coming with us.”

“But to where? Back to Arkham Asylum? I don’t belong there! My family checked me in because they think I’m a danger to myself. But I’m not! They’re the ones confused! Running around town in fear every time the GCPD starts taking out citizens only to blame it on some guy called the Joker! He’s not even real! The things that people believe these days…”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jay,” Dick said carefully, coming up close. He pressed himself to Jason’s back, hoping to convey solidarity, comfort. “Take a breath. We’ve got a job to do.”

“I know we’ve got a fucking job to do!” He stepped out of Dick’s warm weight and turned back to the young woman. “Right. We’re taking you back to Gotham.” Jason called out to Dick. “Stay with her while I open the last two doors.”

The next one was again, empty, but the final door came as a shock.

“Jesus,” Jason called out softly.

There was blood everywhere. It was both splattered and painted onto the walls. In the center of the room, a body sat upright in a mud mixture of blood and dirt. It was bloated and off-color, every inch of revealed skin covered in mottled bruises. There were only shards of a dress left.

At the noise, the head of the body tilted up and eyes peered out through the doorway. There was sound of a drawn, ragged breath.

“Time to set me free?” The person asked with a guttural, gasping voice.

“Uh, well, that is the question,” Jason replied.

Dick left the two other patients with Henry, Pickman, and Carter to see what Jason had found.

“Oh. Wow.”

The person spoke again. “The time has come. My master tells me.”

“I’m not so sure about this one, Dickie,” Jason said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dick said, taking in the state of the room.

The person rose from the ground, a stench rising with it of festering decay.

“I don’t think you know my master,” it said.

“Nope. Don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you at all interested in leaving this place?” Jason placed his hands on his hips and took a defensive stance.

“Yog-Sothoth is coming. I am part of the ritual now.”

“Well, that just sounds made up,” Dick said.

“That’s because it is, Dickie. It’s H.P. Lovecraft.”

“Yog-Sothoth showed me the way. I can see so much now…It’s so much…so much…”

The body began to convulse and words poured out of the mouth of a language that neither Jason nor Dick recognized. They found themselves flanked by the rest of their group, watching the horrifying sight in the last room Jason opened.

“Do you know what she’s saying, Henry?” Pickman asked.

“I believe I recognize the word structure, though I have never heard them spoken before.”

“Do we leave the thing to the padded room? Seems quite happy to be here.”

At Pickman’s words, the person began to move forward, forcing them to step back.

“No locks can keep me now. I have seen all. I know all. You cannot keep me from my fate!”

The body lunged at Jason and Dick, the two closest to the doorway. They evaded and pulled with them whoever else were in the body’s path. It swung quickly back around, arms flailing in a desperation to make contact, to maim.

Jason and Dick pinned the body to the ground, forcing the arms between the mass and dirt floor.

“Roll her over,” Jason said, “and then we’ll put her back in the cell.”

“Yeah. Too dangerous to travel with us.”

Jason secured her arms and they helped the person to its feet. A weeping noise burst from the throat and the body struggled.

“No! Please don’t! My master is here and he needs me! This blood is for him! Your sacrifices are for him!” The body broke down into sobs, head shaking back and forth, swollen feet unmoving.

Dick and Jason maneuvered the blood and dirt covered patient back into the cell. Jason closed the door and locked it. He turned back to Pickman and Armitage to stare them down. “Don’t forget about her,” he said to them.

Pickman stared at Jason with wide eyes, but Dr. Armitage nodded.

“We will save this hospital and…and that patient,” he promised.

“Let’s go then,” Jason said. “We need to get back home.”

Armitage grabbed his lantern, and began the exodus to one of the main corridors of the sanitarium, leading the others plus the two women out. Dick started forward to follow, but Jason caught his hand and pulled him toward him.

Dick waited for Jason to show him what he wanted, and when he felt Jason’s arms wrap around his waist, Dick cradled the man to him.

“I hate this place,” Jason said.

“Let’s go home,” Dick said. Then, “Did your face get dirty?”

“What? No.”

Dick nosed along the side of Jason’s face until he found his mouth and claimed it. Jason responded in hunger, pulling Dick against himself, refusing to part from their kiss. But too soon they realized that they needed to catch up with the group and that they’d been left behind with what may or may not be a madness consumed woman.

Jason squeezed Dick’s hand.

“Let’s go find the others,” Dick said.

“Yeah. And the woman who thinks the Joker’s a Gotham conspiracy.”

“Yeah, her too.”

They walked out the C Wing, the lantern’s glow ahead showing them the way. Jason looked back at the doors, to the person he had locked back in isolation. He let out a breath, and chose to move on. As he turned to face back to what he was moving towards, his eyes spied a shimmer: a brief glimpse of an elongated mass of dimly glowing spheres, all stuck together.

“What?” he started, but then it was gone.

Dick stopped moving and turned to face him.

“Let’s just keep moving, Dick,” he said, resigned.

-

“The patients are a liability. We must escort them out of the building before they get hurt. Or endanger us,” Carter added quietly.

Dick and Jason joined the others where they stood at a crossroads.

“I agree,” Dr. Armitage said, “but it is not that simple. We need to find…” Armitage broke off when he saw Dick and Jason rejoin them. “Mr. Todd, please inform Carter here what’s needed.”

“I think you’re right, Carter,” Jason said.

“You should escort this patient here to St. Mary’s.” Dick gestured to the elderly woman. “But the other patient is from where Jay and I live, so she needs to leave with us.”

“Through the portal?” Carter asked.

“Exactly,” Jason said. “Are you armed?”

“Yes, sir,” Carter said. “Twin .45s and a blade.”

Jason nodded. “Okay. Get her to safety. Find Nurse Waite at St. Mary’s and tell her about the remaining patient. Then come back for Dr. Armitage.”

“Henry?” Carter asked.

“I believe this is where we go our separate ways, my friend.”

Dick nudged Jason. “Please tell me Journey popped into your head.”

Jason nudged back. “ _Here we stand / Worlds apart / Hearts broken in two, two, two,_ ” he sang softly.

“Nice.”

“You know, I’d still be there for you even if we went our separate ways.”

“I’m pretty sure the lyrics are ‘ _you know I still love you,_ ’ Jay. Not ‘ _I’d still be there for you._ ’”

“Don’t be pushy.”

Carter continued. “And if these men go through the portal? You’ll be alone in this place.”

“Not at all,” Armitage answered. “Mr. Pickman here will be with me. And the text.”

Carter gave Pickman his first real look.

Pickman took charge and thrust his hand forward. “Richard Upton Pickman,” he said.

“Randolph Carter.” He shook Pickman’s hand. “You’re from Arkham?”

“For now. But if you ever want to meet up when this is done, find me in Boston.”

“I will Mr. Pickman.” Carter turned back to Armitage. “Take care, Henry.” Then he held out an arm for the woman with the silver-gray hair to take. “Come with me, Ma’am. We’re to leave this place.” Carter gave a nod to Jason and Dick. “Safe travels.”

They said their goodbyes and watched the two figures shrouded in the lantern’s warm glow disappear around a corner.

Henry Armitage lifted his own light and opened up the Necronomicon. “There’s a passage in here that I believe will help us.” He flipped through the bookmarked pages until he alighted on what he needed. “This should help strengthen communication with the portal, if it’s truly a seam of the cosmic fabric.”

Armitage began to recite a mixture of Latin, Arabic, and from what Jason could tell, maybe Old Germanic.

Down the hallway, Jason thought he saw a glint of spheres again. He started moving towards it.

“Are you hearing anything, Mr. Todd?” Armitage called out. “Is the portal speaking to you?”

“I’m not sure,” Jason started, keeping an eye on the way the spheres seemed to slither down the hall away from them. “I don’t think so,” he added.

Then, he heard it.

Voices calling from down the hall, past the spheres, down below.

“We need to move this way,” Jason said. “And we need to find stairs leading down.”

 

They walked the sanitarium’s hallways; the group following the softly spewing voices, Jason following the words and the spheres that always remained too far ahead to get a real glimpse of. Henry and Pickman took the lead, with Jason surrounded by Dick and the young woman who was following along without a word.

“What’s your name?” Jason asked her.

“Sarah,” she said.

“Hi Sarah. So, this is going to sound weird, but this really is the way back to Gotham. Do you remember how you got here in the first place?”

“Sort of. I heard voices,” Sarah paused to listen, “just like these. And then I was walking through a door. And I was here.” She looked around the darkness and where the light of the lantern swung. “Though it didn’t look like this.”

“Right. That’s the same for me,” Jason said. “We’re trying to get to that doorway to go back.”

“Back to the liars? To the corruption?”

“Yes.”

“Back to the charade of Batman and Joker?”

Jason stifled a groan.

“Do you want to go back to Gotham or do you want to stay here?” he asked.

She was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she said. "I want to go back."

“And if it’s any consolation, you’re half right about Gotham.”

“Which half?”

Jason laughed. “I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

“Seriously? You’re saying that Joker terrorizing the city is real? The work of a single person?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And Gotham PD?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, there’s definitely corruption there. But there’s also, like, three people who are trying to do what’s right.”

Dick listened to the exchange, not wanting to break up the conversation. He listened to the calmness in Jason’s voice; the breaths he took to steady himself. Dick wondered if this was how Jason dealt with the memories and emotions surrounding the Joker: to confront it head on and bend it to himself. To take his helmet. To win the city. To not ignore an exchange of words centered on the clown. To give in to rage instead of fear. And to run off to another mission far away when it becomes too much. But he always came back. And he always answered the Bats’ call for help.

Dick listened to Jason try.

-

They found a stairwell and followed the steps down.

To the right and through a doorway. Down the hall until they came face to face with what Jason and Dick had both supposed was a door to a closet. Jason reached out for the handle.

_You seek the gate._

Jason turned the handle, and gently opened the door. The pulsing blackness was there as before. He could feel the intake of breaths. He could hear the exclamations of those around him. But Jason tuned them out and concentrated on the voice that spoke to him, and to him only. He paused to listen.

 _I know this gate,_ the voice continued. _I am the gate. The guardian of the gate._

 _Can we pass through?_ Jason asked the voice in his head.

_What do you want?_

_I want to go home._

The voice seemed to wait.

_I want to go home with Dick._

Jason heard Henry reading from the Necronomicon. The blackness seemed to throb violently. Jason thought he heard a woman’s voice, but he couldn’t make out the words; they were nonsense.

_If that is your wish, I shall assist you. But once you are through, the tear between these worlds will be sewn up. You will not return here._

_I know._

_Some things from here will become lost in your world. Take care of the artifacts._

_I will._

Henry had stopped reading.

“Jay,” Dick called to him. “Let’s go home.”

 _Thank you, Yog-Sothoth_ , Jason said, understanding that the glowing spheres and voice belonged to an Old One of the Cthulhu Mythos.

Jason reached out for Henry Armitage to shake his hand.

The professor juggled the text to the crook of his arm to warmly say goodbye.

“Thank you, Dr. Armitage. I won’t forget what you’ve done for us.”

“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting you so soon myself,” the man said with a smile.

Jason then found himself in front of Pickman.

“You best be off, then. You’ve got your not-family waiting for you.”

Jason laughed and he pulled Pickman in for a hug. He felt Pickman melt into him and wrap his arms around Jason’s waist.

“Go to Boston,” Jason said to Pickman’s ear. “Paint. Get away from this.”

“I’ll go to Boston. And I’ll paint. But I don’t know if I’ll ever get away from this,” Pickman said quietly back.

They held on for a few seconds before Pickman whispered, “I’ll miss you.”

Jason kissed Pickman on the cheek and stepped away from him. He drew Nurse Waite's key ring from his front pocket and handed them over.

“Thanks for taking care of me. And Dick.”

Sarah perked up at the name.

“Wait, is that Dick Grayson??” she asked. “Like Richard Grayson, the Wayne heir?!?”

“We’ll deal with it back home,” Dick said to Jason, as he moved in to give Pickman his own hug.

“Alright,” Jason called out. “Let’s go.”

Dick made his way between Sarah and Jason, holding hands with the two of them.

“Together,” Dick said.

Jason gave one last look at the two men he was leaving behind. He saw determined intelligence on the face of Henry. Pickman had wrapped his arms around his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. Jason gave the man he had spent the last few days with a small smile. Then he looked forward, and with his two companions, they stepped into the blackness.

:::

There was nothing. And then there was everything.

“Who’s the woman?”

“Give them room!”

“Laes eht rood! Esolc eht htap!”

“They look awful.”

And then a stern, gruff, “Enough.”

Jason opened his eyes. He had tumbled out of the portal, still tangled with Dick and the Arkham patient. Dick had let go of his hand and was attempting to stand up. The room was illuminated with portable flood lights, surrounding the area in harsh shadows. A woman, speaking nonsense and in a top hat, coat tails, and fishnets stood closest to the portal. Zatanna. The portal was quickly shrinking in size.

He heard boots land next to him and Jason turned his face to see Red Robin’s inquisitive tilt of the head.

“You going to stand up or what?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, I’m working on it.” Jason got to his feet. “Go deal with the liability.”

Tim turned his head to see Sarah sitting on the ground by Dick, eyes wide at the figures before her.

Tim walked over to her and helped her to her feet.

“Hi, there. I’m Red Robin. I’d like to introduce you to Zatanna…” He led her towards the magician, but Sarah’s eyes remained on the tall, brooding figure cloaked in darkness.

“Is that…???” she started, before Tim called for Zatanna’s attention.

“Zee, can you do something for memories?”

She looked at the woman brought before her.

“Oh, I gotcha, Double R. Like a five minute memory wipe?”

Jason interrupted. “Maybe make it more like a week and a half.”

Zatanna turned to face Jason and lifted an eyebrow.

“Please?” Jason added.

“Alright,” she said, and focused her attention on the woman. Jason noted that the portal was gone, leaving behind an open door to a closet fitted with shelves.

Damian had managed to get Dick to himself and was both trying to escape Dick’s hug and berate him for going missing.

“I know you care, Robin! Just let me hug you!”

“Tch. Let me be. But I’m glad you’re back.”

Jason walked over to them. Damian frowned.

“Oh, look Richard. You brought back American Crowbar, too.”

“Robin!”

“I know you missed me,” Jason said.

“Never.”

“Liar.”

“I feel like I went on the weirdest vacation,” Dick said.

“As in you had fun, Grayson?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Like what? Tell me.”

“No, I don’t think so, Robin.”

“Tch.”

“The dog-ghoul things were weird, though.”

“Yeah, they were gross,” Jason said. “I want to shower. And do laundry.” Jason looked around. “I want to immediately leave this goddamn asylum.”

“You two will first go to the cave to report.” Batman had left the shadows to lay down the law, then he looked at Jason. "Your pack and personal effects are in the cave as well."

"You guys been here awhile?" Jason asked.

"Father had a feeling Grayson would prove impulsive. He tailed him and was able to watch him disappear. Then Red Robin and I got the call to help figure out a way to bring you home."

"So you did nothing but wait for us to get back," Jason said.

Damian remained silent until Batman spoke up.

"I asked Zatanna to help first. But the situation was proving difficult."

Dick piped in. "Yeah, it takes two to tango apparently. Zee can only affect the portal on this side. There's no way she could reach us over there."

"There's no magic in that world," Jason clarified, looking back at the closet, and at Zatanna whispering over the prone body of Sarah who seemed to be asleep.

"I want every detail," Batman said. "This can't happen again."

“You got it, B,” Jason said with a mock salute.

Batman narrowed his lenses at Jason, then left to check on Zatanna and Tim.

Dick leaned in close to Jason.

“So how much reporting are we doing?” Dick asked.

“You want to tell B we were mixing business with pleasure? Think of some of the other things we did as off the clock.”

Dick winked at him. "Insults from the kid. Not strictly following B's orders...it's good to be back."

:::

Dick found Jason slumped into the corner of the couch with a book, his face absorbed in whatever he was reading.

“Hey Jay!” Dick called. “You're here!”

Jason took his eyes from the page to see Dick standing in front of the door of Dick’s own apartment.

“Hey, Dickie.”

“You won’t believe how much of Bruce’s money I had to spend today. Seriously.”

“Over the painting?” Jason asked.

“Three quarters of a million, Jay. For an unknown artist.”

Jason went back to the book and turned the page. “I’m worth at least a million.”

“I feel like the museum _had_ to give it to me, especially with how much the Waynes have donated over the years.”

“What’d you tell them? About wanting the painting so badly?”

Dick laughed. “I told them that Bruce really wanted the portrait because the subject reminds him of his dad.”

Jason closed his eyes and shook his head, but his shoulders shook with laughter.

“You’re bold, Dick.”

-

It had started a month after Jason and Dick had returned from the other world. From Arkham, Massachusetts of the 1920s. Dick had picked Damian up from the manor for an impromptu field trip to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art. The two made their way through the museum, with Damian insisting that he had either already seen the pieces before him or that they were of inferior quality. But it was in the heart of the building that both Dick and Damian had found themselves standing in front of a respectably sized oil on canvas portrait.

“What is the meaning of this?” Damian had demanded.

Dick just stood there with his mouth agape. He knew immediately what was before him. He knew the clothes: the gray shirt with the three buttons at the top, the olive green military jacket. He saw the prominently featured white stripe of hair that swept back amongst the rich, dark hair. But what truly kept Dick rooted to the spot was the velvet button back chair the subject sat in. Dick knew that chair. He had sat in that chair, reading Pickman’s books while waiting in a town that wasn’t his.

“Grayson,” Damian had called again, “why is there a portrait of Todd here?”

-

“So where’s the painting at?” Jason asked.

Dick sat down on the couch and leaned against him.

“Bruce has it. It’s his money. Plus, he said he wants to check it over to make sure there’s nothing nefarious going on.”

“Sounds like him.”

“Nah. I think he just wanted an excuse. It’s totally going on the gallery wall.”

“Damian will throw it in the trash.”

“Then I’ll get a free painting.”

Jason looked at Dick, saw the smile on his face, the mirth in his eyes.

Since they had traveled back to Gotham, they had immersed themselves fully back into their vigilante life. They reveled in their masks, in breathing the Gotham air, in fighting on their terms. And at the end of it, the masks came off with Dick and Jason still there. Still there to laugh, to make sure that they're okay, and to go home together.

Jason held up the book he was reading. It was a dense leatherbound.

“I found him,” Jason said to Dick.

“Him?”

“Pickman.” Jason flipped through the pages. “I’m reading _The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath_.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Carter’s in it. He’s the protagonist actually.”

“And how is Pickman in it?”

“Carter’s trying to navigate the dream world. He’s trying to find this city and he just keeps going to different worlds. One of them is just cats.”

“Tell Selina,” Dick laughs.

Jason lets Dick enjoy the moment before getting back to the story.

“Carter finds Pickman there, in the dream world…he helps Carter, but it’s not the same. The man Carter remembers is gone. Pickman’s dead and mostly transformed into one of those ghouls we fought in Arkham.”

“Oh, Jay. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. It’s not something I thought would happen.”

“You hoped he would leave it all behind?”

“Yeah. And now he’s nothing but a character. I feel like the man we met isn’t just gone, but as if he never existed.”

“We have the painting now,” Dick said.

“Of me. By an unknown artist.”

“And this.”

Dick dug into his pocket and placed a photograph on the page of the open book. It featured Jason, asleep in the chair that first night in that other place.

“It came with the painting,” Dick said. “The museum had it filed away. It has to be what he based your portrait on. You didn’t know he took a picture of you, did you?”

“No.”

Jason turned the photo over, and in a faded hand the color of rust, Pickman had written: _That is not dead which can eternal lie_.

Jason pulled Dick closer to himself and rested the side of his face against the top of his dark hair. Jason stared at the words on the photograph, at Pickman’s fate to forever live and die simultaneously in print. But the glossy photo was proof in his hands. It was proof of what happened. Of being lost and found. It’s proof of the beginning of Jason and Dick – their comfort in each other. It wasn't a depiction. It was a photograph from life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Some notes: 
> 
> -Richard Upton Pickman, Henry Armitage, and Randolph Carter are all characters of H.P. Lovecraft and are often used by other authors of weird tales.
> 
> -Yog-Sothoth is a maybe nice Old One in the Cthulhu mythos? Yog-Sothoth sorta helps out Carter in another story ("Through the Gates of the Silver Key"). But it's implied that Yog-Sothoth works with deepest desires, and that too much knowledge can overwhelm the self. You have to really know yourself and wish to come out unharmed to use safe passage from Yog-Sothoth.
> 
> -"The Lock Pick Kid" is one of my favorite things to come out of Scott Synder's and James Tynion IV's _Batman and Robin: Eternal_. Jason, Tim, and Bane is the team up I never knew I needed.
> 
> -Dick and Jason reference Journey's song "Separate Ways."
> 
> -Damian calls Jason "American Crowbar", which is in reference to one of the first documented cases of a person's behavior changing drastically after damage to the frontal lobe of the brain. In the story of the case study, the man (Phineas Gage) was bludgeoned with a crowbar and after healing, demonstrated extreme violent behavior that was uncharacteristic for him. Although these details are suspect and probably not completely true (though fun). In Damian's defense, it sounds a bit like Jason.
> 
> \- "That is not dead which can eternal lie" from Lovecraft's "The Call of Cthulhu."
> 
> -Last line of this work and the title are taken from the last line in H.P. Lovecraft's "Pickman's Model". Pickman's a bit more like Jason in that story ;)


End file.
